Old wainds

Once moonlight...

Old wainds
We are not human beings
We possess not human spirit
Convulsions
We are in constant pain
And soul is longing for the real body

I know the moonlight
I've talked to the Northern wind
Wind ordered me to go North,
Gathered the parts of the kult,
Remains of the bygone rituals

Writing that inspire with awe
Souls stiffened in stones

Again wolf sun is going down
Again feet leave tread in the snow
Again riwe glitters in the snow
Again bair (wolfskin) smells of taiga
Again games with death and blood
Again races with my own shadow
And wolf's howl
Not all are gathered adges of death...

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