The Spirits of the Tall Hills - Disembowelment

Standing upon the portal where my eyes have become weary, the cold winds

From

The south bring ghastly fragments of the forgotten land, where, once

The spirits stood

Along the desolate shore to

Disappear into the silenced murk, «some by the seven gated Thebes in the

Land of Kadmos

There, for these, the end of

Death was misted about them», as my eyes slowly descend, the dust

Transcends into my frail

Structure, the wind, the

Cold wind breaks my complete silence, the portal for which I stand upon

Collapses, no fear I

Shall feel, transcendence

Into the peripheral, «and there they have their dwelling place and

Hearts free of sorrow, in

The islands of the blessed

By the deep swirling stream of the ocean», the hypnotised sound of

Boetian harps, created by

The force of the spirits

The faraway lands no longer seem so distant, nirvanaesque serenity as

The hills become

Unclouded, the spirits

Embrace my soul, as I envision the neutral spectrum before me, the harp

Echoes and echoes

And… my wings take

Me to the bewilderment