as icicles fall

can you remember the words of our dying mother?

all winters' white. and wonderful

the third eye spies the greatest pain

in league with the cycle of life. feel the change

her breath of frost upon the house of man's beating heart

sleep children sleep

such colours to be seen

sanguine glaciers

the veins of our prelude

fore this is where she lies. mother

be our eyes

be our eyes

as the icicles fall

moments of reverence

the invention of all

everything calls and every life-line ignites

the tears of mother

everlasting season

but the phoenix empire expires. exhales. the curtain call to embers

within us she lives

around us she's dying

fading lights blacken

garden's euphoric. cowering underworld order

the winds sing our dirge. this is where she lies

the veiling unveiled. mother

our mother beats down her ashen wings

mother

be our eyes

grey and dripping the blood of mother

feel her pain

evolving

the shrouds she gathers

this is where she lies

in abstraction without colours

we die with the fall of the icicles

lost to pigment the pale paradise

swept in tow to the danse macabre

in hand to the cold grasp of time. of time. broken shutters gape open wide

breathing in hoarse whispers on high

cry. white-noise witch choir

ice tears of our mother

pillars of monolith and ice

laced with lightning

besieged by the void

the anti-matter of mind

once were painted walls

now they preach parched skin petals

the freeze-frame tomb unfolds. for our mother. our mother. cry. white-noise witch choir

fall of the icicles

mother. mother. mother. mother.