In The Garden Of Dispersion - Behemoth

on ye hill

where ye sun behind horizon hides

there is nothing

except our breaths

and crux of events

and some crux ov our hands

on ye hill

where shadow wings fell

wind rose ye to song

and we plung’d in its deep

and in plaitiv waterfall depths

evanescent recollection ov atavisms

secret ov living in ye death posture

and then…

the ye seal in the garden ov dispersion

closes ye mouth

closes ye eyes

closes ye ears

in fields ov eden

under ye first tree’s rotting root

there’s feast

typhon’s feast

and night came moonless

but yet ye light appear’d —

picture ov sigillic angels

grafting in our holy body and mind