The wind whispers
As the crowns of wild white oaks
And the bald cypress trees swings
Visibility drained by the fog
Still the mist lies thick
As the heavy rain
Far away
Cold and alone
I wander
As the lush ground trickles benath my feet
The rain falls down and whips the ground
As burning arrows from the mound
Like caverns - deep, is the forests keep
The light from the moons is out of reach
...Where death replaces life...
...Gher Dun Mora Khamir Drahad...
South of the rill
Near the black marsh it sets
Dark shadows cast
over rotten branches
Dun Mora - the blackwoods
it lays
on moldering ground
Aside Niben bay
This album, despite its atmospheric tranquility, gives me a peace and a dreamlike image that I have rarely seen reflected in other works. The similarities with Summoning are there, despite this it is still an album with a unique personality. Frank Román