Hollow Branches - Scream In The Hollow Tree

Crowned in moss, I crawl through loam, Worm-blood rites beneath the stone. Bone-fire cracked and nightwind sworn, I drink from roots the world’s first form. Ash in veins and frost in breath, I bow to rot, the trueborn death. No god above, no tongue of man— Only claw and claw again. I am the scream in the hollowed tree, The storm-song ghost of ancestry. Brambles lash where temples fade— My altar: tooth. My church: the grave. Thirteen stars and antlered sky, Spirits bleed from bark and cry. Ritual cuts in sacred birch, Calling back what fire burned. Speak to me in stone and crow, In marrow runes and blooded snow. Let the oak consume my name— Make me myth, make me flame. I am the scream in the hollowed tree, The storm-song ghost of ancestry. Brambles lash where temples fade— My altar: tooth. My church: the grave. “Let the forest have me whole.”