Hollow Branches - Spiral of The First Rot

Before the breath, before the flame A silence writhed with nameless name From void it split, the spiral bled A root that feasted on the dead No god, no throne, no crown, no king Only the Hollow spiraling The soil drank shadow, flesh from dust The leaf was born from sacred rust We are the rot-born, crawling from stillness Root-veined children of fungal witness Ash to marrow, flesh to clay Spit on the light and kneel to decay The rivers wept from the Root’s old cries Moss bloomed beneath the corpse of skies Wind was breath from the Leaf’s first moan And bones became the mountain’s throne Spiral down Spiral deep We bloom We rot We sleep We are the rot-born, crawling from stillness Root-veined children of fungal witness Ash to marrow, flesh to clay Spit on the light and kneel to decay The rivers wept from the Root’s old cries Moss bloomed beneath the corpse of skies Wind was breath from the Leaf’s first moan And bones became the mountain’s throne No heaven waits, no fire shall burn Only the Hollow, to which we return Feed the soil, dissolve the skin The story ends where it begins No god, no throne, no crown, no king Only the Hollow spiraling