A Forlorn Wanderer - Obscure Infinity

Carved by hours of many fullmoon cycles

His face an abyss, hands eroded by drudgery

Bearing ruins, bearing perdition on his shoulders

In the eye and in the morn

The old spirit is walking onward, but walking forlorn

A cursed destiny

Neither crown nor halo upon the head

A vast trial

A vast burden

That he cannot shed

An obscure aura

That emanates from a body that has bled

A moribund walker

A silent talker

He strides among the dead

With genuine will

They call him the doomed

They call him the possessed

But what they don’t know is

That his soul is more than blessed

They advise him to plead

And kneel in front of Yahweh’s altar

To call for divine intervention

It would be the cry for

A celestial empire that has never been

And will never reveal salvation

Beyond the borders of society

Beyond the borders of normal man

Walks the follower of the left hand path

And beyond the borders of flesh

And beyond the manifestations of time

The forlorn wanderer will find a kingdome for his self

A kingdome for the forlorn

Everything was left behind

Except the will to strive for higher

Chaos preacher raise your voice

Invoke the black illuminating fire

Give birth to mental liberation

And death to stagnation

In your kingdome forlorn

Unexpected strength and power

Channels the hungry wide eye gazer

The more inconspicuous he acts outwardly

The wilder the nature behind the pupil

Marked by symbols and divine hands

His face a mask, his hands are tools and weapons

Bearing wisdom, bearing faith, king of the unknown