Black Mass For The Last Millennium

The black sea roars like a speech
Demons of the deep are merciless
Cast your fear about for a candle
Drawn from the tongue of this dark shore

The One Who Watches steps forth
With the World-Tree for a heart
Her fires inverted crosses
Not for Satan Not for God

But for the pagan beyond the human lust for names.
She wears a night-cloak and a gown
Woven from the void. Her feet are bare to feel the earth
As it was before human wreckage.

Blood and salt are her baptism
On this sand eons old
Her axe chants in the voice of animals
Uncorrupted and fierce

You cannot hear her anymore
But in the smallest grain she waits
To behold the divested planet
After the Self-Sacrificed species

Has rotted beyond its bones
To become the soil from which it came
And the wind through which her singing
Manifests the last mass of our loss.