There is a procession winding through the graveyard. Dark figures holding the severed swaying limbs of an immortal. Carefully, they handle the bark to avoid that telltale itch that will oyster them for days if they are thoughtless. Amongst their parade, the bones of a mortal. Calcium instead of cellulose. Both will soon be entwined.
How will the timeless creature mark time? By the benchmarks of these celebrations of briefness. By watching us, holding us, threatening to poison us, being amputated by us.
The Yew is a tree that regenerates from its own collapsed center. We place them in cemeteries to invoke that same resurrection in our kin. We carry their boughs in our sorrow. We bury our boughs amongst their roots. They remember us all.
This song was co-written by myself and Marcy Russo in a collaboration rediscovered after lockdown in my creative home, Révéler. I’ve been told my style of singing is “gothic soul” and I quite love that. This song is the epitome of that phrase.
Endless thanks to my video producer
of In the Wind and my sound engineers, Tom Illmensee & Frank Verga.MORE IS COMING! This song will go out on the streams soon and be joined by its twin flame, False Sphinx soon.
In curiosity from Istanbul,
Carmel
