Land Where Our Skulls Sing

Land Where Our Skulls Sing
© Surazeus
2025 11 06

My sad raven keeps my secret name hid 
in sun-purpled shadows of lonely spruce 
so I can see my soul inside my home 
built from bones of ancestors who hold 
holy words of wisdom my mothers mold 
from stories blind ghosts whisper in the wind. 

Through swirls of fog over the blood-black sea 
I sail fragile boat of my heart to find 
secret island where my enemies dwell 
as I cross boundary of the craggy land 
to gather raven eggs with wounded hand 
for we spring from deep furrows of the past. 

Respect for strange beauty bound by cold light 
reaches high to caress sky of my mind 
that reflects secret thoughts I never share 
with people who build walls of our abode 
yet always walk with me on the long road 
that winds around high mountain of the stars. 

From breath of silence in valleys of lakes 
my tongue spirals words on the origin 
of primal thunder that powers our hearts 
with solemn rattle of mortality 
for we accept spirit finality 
in songs that death articulates with hope. 

Yet thunder that vibrates on mountain walls 
expresses passion of my wordless heart 
with bitter honesty of splintered faith 
when I meet Cadmus by the singing sea 
whose letters give my heart wings to fly free 
over cloud-capped summits of boundless hills. 

Though scattered now across the endless plains 
our fragmented tribes build homes on lush shores 
where they all sing with voices of the wind 
tale of our first mother in ancient lore 
whose wisdom programs our rich mental store 
as lamp that guides our quest for paradise. 

If our first mother rises from the dead 
she may stride bravely in fear-shadowed woods 
to gather golden resin from spruce trees 
so we can chew nurturing blood of faith 
that sparks in our hearts dream of the god wraith 
whose spirit feeds our souls with blood of time. 

Our bodies writhe from roots of ancient spruce 
so we spread raven wings of curious hope 
to heap dust of the dead in bulging hills 
where we build homes from dragon bones of truth 
according to rules of messiah sleuth 
because we own the land where our skulls sing.