As autumn begins and the cold embrace of winter looms ever closer, I find myself more and more entranced by nature. It seems fortuitous now that I stumble upon these wild wratihs of woods, calling themselves Mavradoxa. Summoned like a great storm carrying howling winds and beating snows, assailing body and spirit with tremendous force, carrying with them the calm and calamity as nature does.
Whispers of dawn echo through the winds of time
Wistful, beckoning calls flowing through the boughs
Crystalline waters rushing through forgotten streams
Down they trickle through glassy falls like sand
The hours, frozen, now begin to fade away
For the death of man a choir of raven calls lament
An ode to saplings sprouting from an iron sea
Carried softly through the branches on a woodsmoke breeze
The reverent forests shroud us in the dawn
Our footprints buried below autum leaves
The endless snowfall has been called upon
Throes of a coming storm and winters are perceived
Spectrum of fleeting rays swirling through the clouds of mist
Where the aeonian portal of radiance exists
Far from the reach of man, I dwell in solitude!
At a distance wicked winter's embrace is creeping
Bones of the world reaching ever skyward, consuming
O grand woods I beseech thee; consume my remains
THE MAD BARRON
Join me as I reach into the darkness and pull from it the madness within...
The Source Of The Metal