Izanami ft. Sir Herp of Derp

As the river recalls the mountain’s stern spine, I carved my devotion in both granite and brine. What plum-blossom yields, no wind may dethrone. I gathered each petal as though it were bone. Lantern and darkness, in orbit empowered. Cicadas chanting of summers devoured, Two moons in still water...exquisite, subdued, Every death I had squandered, I squandered on you. What the torchlight rips from the sanctified night Was never a gift from the hands of the light! Some mercies are tombs built to shelter the eye, Not all revelation was meant to survive! The face I had canonized, pallid and frail, Wore paradise thin as a funeral veil, And what knelt beneath my fevered devotion Left love as a corpse in tidal erosion! Like a fisherman dragging the drowned to air, I exhumed my adoration from sepulchral prayer. What shrine had I raised to her porcelain breath? What incense embalmed the perfume of death? I read her like sutra...each syllable shone, A scripture of ivory, beauty and bone. Yet famine lay coiled in the folds of her grace, A chrysalis feeding beneath her face. Did devotion robe corruption chaste and pale? Or did Yomi whisper her unspoken tale? What the torchlight rips from the sanctified night, He tore my becoming into cold, brutal light! The face he exalted he branded with blame, My transfiguration... his burial with shame! What knelt in his worship, trembling and frail, Was fear of the truth beneath beauty’s veil! As tsunami requires no blessing to rise, I ascend from Yomi with obsidian eyes, He held his lantern to sorrow’s room, And christened it carrion, gilded in bloom. He bathed in rivers to rinse what he’d seen, Cold absolution to polish him clean. But I am his debt with the absence of breath, The silk-threaded bride of a beautiful death. Let him purify trembling in water and scream, The horror he fled... Was his own reflected gleam! The mountain sheds stone without mourning the scar. The river consumes what resists from afar. I am not blossom in worship undone, I am the eclipse that devours its sun. I am reborn! Transformed through funereal flame. I am unbound! From the tyranny of his name! What the torchlight rips from the merciful night... I was his still water… till he demanded sight. The face once enthroned in devotional wail Wore paradise thin as a burial veil… And what knelt beneath my adoration... was never corruption… but revelation... And what knelt between us… Left us both Cold and pale. Cicadas fall silent. Lanterns expire. The river remembers, The heat of the fire.