Bone Yard

“Bone Yard (Judee Sill—The Donor Remix)” is a track added by NФΔH 23 in the Hermetic Library audio pool.

Consider also:

  1. “But the orb revolveth anon; the shadow passeth away from thee. There is the dissolution, and eternal ecstasy in the kisses of Nu! For inasmuch as thou hast made the Law of Freedom thine, as thou hast lived in Light and Liberty and Love, thou hast become a Freeman of the City of the Stars.”
  2. I Am Shell I Am Bone
  3. “After a while he took the word again: ‘Go thou then moonwards; on the great salt plain; So to a pillar. Adamant, alone, It stands. Around it see them overthrown, King, earl, and knight. There lie the questing slain, A thousand years forgotten–bone by bone. ‘No more is spoken–the tradition goes: ‘There learns the seeker what he seeks or knows,’ Thence–none have passed. The desert leagues may keep Some other secret–some profounder deep Than this one echoed fear: the desert shows Its ghastly triumph–silence. There they sleep. ‘There, brave and pure, there, true and strong, they stay Bleached in the desert, till the solemn day Of God’s revenge–none knoweth them: they rest Unburied, unremembered, unconfessed. What names of strength, of majesty, had they? What suns are these gone down into the West?”
  4. “The plain is covered with a many dead. Glisten white bone and salt-encrusted head, Glazed eye imagined, of a crystal built. And see! dark patches, as of murder spilt. Ugh! ‘So thy fellows of the quest are sped! Thou shall be with them: onward, if thou wilt!’ So was the chilling whisper at my side, Or in my brain.”
  5. “What meets mine ear, That every nerve and bone of me cries halt? What is this cold that nips me at the throat? This shiver in my blood? this icy note Of awe within my agonising brain? Neither of shame, nor love, nor fear, nor pain, Nor anything? Has love no antidote, Courage no buckler? Hark! it comes again. Friend, hast thou heard the wailing of the damned? Friend, hast thou listened when a murderer shammed Pale smiles amid his fellows as they spoke Low of his crime: his fear is like to choke His palsied throat. How, if Hell’s gate were slammed This very hour upon thy womanfolk? Conceive, I charge thee! Brace thy spirit up To drink at that imagination’s cup! Then, shriek, and pass! For thou shalt understand A little of the pressure of the hand That crushed me now.”