When I used to search for ghostwords,
I believed each entity is sentient.
The astrologer never helped me to find it,
He was afraid that ventriloquist might steal it.
The astrologer could hear the songs without his ears.
Learn the ghostword you must to manipulate it,
And unlearn it to use it again.
The messenger of the ghostword will never arrive,
Cause your deception calls the young birds.
Trees roam free over the burning seas.
Numbers of shadows keep rising
Immortal stays the body of Arizel,
In the puppeteer’s blood she dwells.
The unknown power hit me,
When I waited for Arizel on my asylum’s stairs
The trees will always be the newborns
Some of them turning into skies
The river will not stay oblivious
I pray it will eventually start giving shelter,
To them who bring back their possessions.
The skies were the infants,
By newborns they will always be summoned,
The evening bells have now started to chime,
The gallows rust by the morning light
The new day invokes a nostalgic life.
If the latch on the toolshed happen to open
The age of confluence will arrive again
With force much stronger,
The ghostword couldn’t be used again.
The prophesier would lose its powers.
Now you know,
It was the puppeteer who bred what you sing
The skies will be watching you all forever
The river will accept your ordure
The god bears no name in our brave new world.