Thrawsunblat - She Who Names the Stars

I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought for a ford back across
For here I am scattered, thoughts asunder, in tatters
No recollecion of having crossed
The stream will always be found among the industrial sound
This is life in Metachthonia
But green can always be found among the industrial sound
There is still life in Metachthonia

The water runs so deep
I've seen so many taken by the will of the stream
But I must cross to the warmth of and the green of where I once was
The peace of life lived at my own will
All you, welcome to Metachthonia
It's like the rustle of leaf to ground against the industrial sound
It's like the sun on your skin while the diodes draw you in

It was verdant and the arching oaks swayed in a whispering wind
All quiet were the thorning groves, and shining lakes did brim
Then 'lectric industry arrived, emitting its cold and lifeless light
Dendritic verdure did subside to oil and fumes and torbanite
It left and with it nature's realm, and air with cedar scent
And overhanging streets of elm with flowing branches bent
Although we see the trees around in this electric age
Yet nothing of old nature's old ways does seep into our veins

And on her arm was flame alive. In ink it lashed the wind
A binding to primordial times when flame was close
As kin
A binding to time when survival hung on reading stars
On luminous galactic ceiling-when to reap the bearded grain
When to hunt the running game
If the sun should wake again from winter's slumbered plane
Even before the scientific, even before-in life
We could reach the stars, we knew the stars
Known in analogue, but known well
Mapped, we knew them as hag, hunter, stag, and thunder
"Do you not take comfort in seeing the same stars as your ancestors?
"If we must take strength from something greater than ourselves
For all that you hope and all that you are-why not revere the sun and stars?
Our forebears worshiped the sun
Our forebears worshiped the stars
Asteric understanding and far from without life immense in passion and pulse"

Look at seven winters past-the changes to the world
What, in seven winters more, could dare to be revealed?
So now is pattern visible, and conversation opened, for us
The treaders on the cusp of now and coming moment
For in this age the choice is ours when to connect or flee
But soon's the time when we will learn the meaning of
Ubiquity
Look at seven winters past-the changes to the world
What, in seven winters more, could dare to be unfurled?
Think, Metachthonic, where does it end, the reach of 'lectric nets?
Look at present, past, and future trend, and what they may beget"
Having spoke, she looked to the shimmering sky
She saw our past, present, future, and so did I
In the shower of ageless light, I understood
"Astronomer," I began
But when my eyes fell from the sky, she was gone

Written by:
Joel Violette

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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