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Darkestrah
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The Hidden Light
Light is pouring from the eyes,
From the mouth,
From the tips of the fingers.
Light, crushing black light
From inside
Inmost and hidden.
Gleam of the first shamanic fire,
Lit by gods,
Lit by no mortal hand.
Gleam of the pre-eternal
Source of all life
In conjunction
With death.
Light, only seen by the few,
By the marked.
Chosen by spirits and fiends.
Light, strange to this world,
Not from here,
Untouched by the filth.
As the air's getting thick,
The landscape dissolves
And luminaries turning
Pitch black,
Doors once shut get open,
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Once lost is retrieved.
The hunter is back on his track.
Light is pouring from the eyes,
From the mouth,
From the tips of the fingers.
Light, crushing black light.
From inside
Inmost and hidden.
Gleam of the first shamanic fire,
Lit by gods,
Lit by no mortal hand.
Gleam of the pre-eternal
Source.
As the air's getting thick,
The landscape dissolves
Luminaries turning
Pitch black,
Doors once shut get open,
Once lost is retrieved.
The hunter is back on his track.
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