The Stone Is Not Hit by the Sun, nor Carved With a Knife

You lead me to the stone We dig in the cold earth Fingers slipping through the dirt Resistant and unyielding Until we reach something colder Colder than the earth And pull and heave the stone From its place of rest Flip it over and expose to the sky The words carved into its skin Unread for years and years For years unread and instantly The sun leeches away all meaning

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 04, 2026

The sun is the man who wails over naked death And cries cold tears onto the grey stone skin of the hills The hills reaching to the sky to touch Touch the sun that they might hold Pull it down, consume and swallow the light The sun is the man who bleeds into the ocean's arms And turns the waves to salt Curling and crested with crimson foam The waves reach out to the sky to hold Hold the sun that they might hold Pull it down, subsume and drown the light

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 04, 2026

She grips the knife with cold fingers And tries to carve the stone Force it to say what she wants What she's always wanted but always choked back Held back and under her tongue to moulder And rot in her mouth and turn black as the sky at night Her eyes are stars reflecting in the cold ocean surface Still and sharp as stone And she spits the blackened words into the sea And they sink to the bottom Where the sun might never touch them

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 04, 2026

Instrumental

Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026