An October night howls and a cabin lay empty For the cold hands grasped her Not unlike a drafty attic in December Or a moth stuck in a cedar wardrobe Born from the black cube of Andromeda I have been given stigmata from Orion The great bear of the cosmos follows me As he searches for the lost twins of time In my hands, a knife from the forests For which I shall cleanse the waters 'round my home Death gifted me a bouquet That will silence the eternal blaze of the wood fire By these shores, we have called this cabin our home Do you remember the perfume of burning spruce and honey Or the gentle petrichoral whispers of the northern rain Would you give that up for your false idea of freedom? A skeleton wanders these empty fields In search of meaning He ignores the shrieks of gods Or the orgies of Saturn as they call his name Ages and ages have passed by these woods And yet, she lays awake wandering in these wastes A bent pine growing ever closer towards the night A whale howling to the evergloam As he vanished into the darkwood A moonlit burial ground Shards of glass fall from her neck And a child sings of a withering pyre