The Nihilist - Two: a Prayer To the Ancients
Knee-bones sunk in wet twilight soil,
Welded hands in pagan prayer,
Stones sacrificial once draped in blood
And ghosts of what was slaughtered there.
Hear the beseeching winds of time
Carry the words from lips a-trembling,
Usher the arcane dichotomy aloft,
Ciphers of thought from a mind dissembling.
When all of faith and hope expire
Along with the dogma of Christian sons,
Primitive pharmacy, druidic roots
Hurl prayers unto the ancient ones.
Hear, oh keepers of the stones,
Sentinels of the charnel ground,
Return to me the source of grief,
Return her to me unbound.
Lightning cracked and thunder drummed,
The old gods awoke, reconceived,
A prayer to the ancients, fire and bone,
By their black souls received…
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