1. SURROUNDED BY UNLIGHT

Crystal air...

In the night
Surrounded
By unlight

Cursing...
Falling...

Crying out, defying the rule
Of faith which cast me into this

My world cannot die !

I cannot end !

In the night
Surrounded
By unlight

My world cannot die...

Thousands
Of years

Before I can rise
To worship again
The most ancient gods

Locked within myself, interred
Where no hand might trace my name
Or intervene in salvation...

My world cannot die...

It remains within my mind—
My advent shall re-form it
For their glory, and for mine.

Falling... Cursing me

My lesson
Ends itself

In sanity's overturning
In the expression of my will
In scorning the imprecations...

In the cold
Arisen
In new flesh

In battle, steeled, armoured, weaponed...
In blood coloured black by the moon...

2. A SHRED OF FLESH

A shred of flesh

Torn
From
Night

Fell upon
My opened mouth
On Midwinter's night

The call of the dying god
Sounds loudly in my soul's self—
I scream as I rise aloft

Leave my body
Look down upon it as I climb

Torn from
The night

I trace the path of the black moon—
I open a channel of force
Connecting my soul to that face.

Flesh

Is transformed

Formed by will
Astral flesh
Envelops

Spell, cast.
Wills, linked.

I am us
We are I
Linked brothers

We begin the incantation

Setting darkling rune-forms
Over the works of the Light.

Our war begins

Though scattered, we are as one

Consecrated

To us,
To them...
Apocalypse

Or perhaps a new aeon...

Shredded flesh
Torn at night
Will feed us.

3. BLACK MOON NIGHT

Black
Moon
Night:

Unbound from any single law
Save the covenant of the night—
The pact of eternal dark—

Long I sought for my salvation.

I have found it

In the black moon night

In my own blood—

It sings of my heritage—

Old destiny

The moon's might:
I hold it.

My right hand discards my mercy ;
My left hand wields the blade of blight.

Black
Moon
Night

I have sought:

I have found:
I have warred:
I have won.

The abyss' own voice
Knows my secret name
And sings it aloud.

I have found
Black moon might.

Light unbinds before my eyes.

Black
Moon,

Scream
My
Curse...

4. CRIES OF SATANIC ZEAL

Dusk, time of death...

Gazing
About

At the mountains of black stone,
The elder untouched forest
And the dark, fog-shrouded lakes

The mages shed blood

Instead of
The tears they
Do not shed

As they cast their eyes upon the
Bright-bladed forces of the light.

War-hate

Impels them forward

To pronounce their spell

To blight and
To destroy
Their enemies

Or as many of them

As
They
Can...

As they die

In a dark
Sacrifice
For their lord.

They do not tremble in blood-fear,
These magicians, since their ending
Will be rewarded by their king.

Their hate will sustain
Their minds and their force
In their afterlife.

They have been promised new life
In forms of old rotting flesh
To continue their spellcraft
For the dark one's own glory.

They complete their incantations
And even as they are consumed
They exult in an army's death.

All those soldiers of the cross
Are sent to death to find
No truth in theology...

And though the mages also scream,
Their cries are of satanic zeal...