Old Growth - Mossweaver [Full Album]

Lyrics to Mossweaver [Full Album] by Old Growth

Tracklist: 01. Old Growth I know a place in the very heart of the forest. A sacred grove covers the gate into the hidden woodland realm. None but a chosen few can find the paths that lie in twilight, the twisting trails of moss and fern, of mist and morning dew. If you enjoy the friendship of the seasons and learned to listen to the trees, I will guide you to an ancient place where time does not exist and no man’s hand has ever spoiled the earth. Where Mother Nature resides in every tiny twig, in every silent leaf, in every drop of silver rain there is my home. 02. Oakenheart My journey ends. This is the settling of the wanderer. I lay down my weary limbs on a wet bed of moss. I taste the dew, drink some resin, climb the clouds and collect some stars. I cloak my body in leaves of fern and make my mouth the nest of the night snake. I replace my lonesome heart with acorns. The seedling will sprout within my chest. I place two cones of pitch pines in my orbits. I will envisage a new world. I witness my last breath vanish into the cold air of the first autumn night. A flock of birds ascends into the clouded firmament. A white stag heads for the forgotten glade. The black wolves prepare for the sacred hunt. A druid is born: Mossweaver. Oakenheart. 03. Red Clouds Our future has been foretold by the wise elders of our ancestors. They saw the cycle of life not completed for the first time. They saw the seventh generation wasting away in silence, their bleached bones lying on dry and barren ground. 'The sun‘s brightness fades, and the winds sigh humanely, the clouds rain tears, and the woods shed their leaves they put on mourning in midsummer.' - H.D.Thoreau Blood red clouds drift through the windswept autumn sky. No new world arises from the frozen grip of the old. When spring‘s gleams of light won‘t melt the remnants of winter, when hibernation ends with the first snowfall, changes far greater than the falling of the leaves await us at season's end. 04. The Seedling Snow-flowers wander home when they melt and flow to the roaring sea. Rock-ferns roll their fronds up close again and blend with the cold soil. Myriads of living creatures sink into death’s arms, dust to dust, spirit to spirit, waited on, watched over, noticed only by their lifegiving Mother. Trees are towering in the sky, braving storms of centuries. Seedlings are turning faces to the light for a single day. All alike pass on and away under the ancient law of night‘s son. Like them we‘ll die and become one with the hallowed earth again. We are nothing more than withered leaves whirled around in the winds of eternity. Do we remember the tree that shed us before everything is covered by the winter‘s veil of white? 05. Queen of the Woodland Realm The black birds gather. Harbingers of death whisper of a coming storm. The old growth bows to the roaring winds. For hundreds of years he throned over this primeval forest. A thousand spirits of the woods encircle his crown. Homeless they‘ll fade into the opaque void. The spotted owls disappear at first. Like ghosts of a dying world they vanish in the night. Behold the omen. A new age dawns. Eternal darkness enshrouds the canopy. The stars turn black. They die in silence. No crescent illuminates the nightsky. A thousand dying birds fall from the heavens. All life ends on this fateful day. Behold the queen of the woodland realm. The feral Mother emerges one last time where a fern flower unrolled its seedless leaves. Enfeebled she stalks the alder thicket. With the arrival of the coming storm her graceful appearance will leave this world forever. Forever. 06. Call of the Night Spirit [Instrumental] 07. Altar of Wisdom The ghosts of fire dance across the crimson skyline. The spirits of life enter the pale world of ashes. With emberhands the flames embrace the land. The fiery invasion consumes mighty bark and burns old stem. Another giant falls to the blackened ground. What remains is a monument of bygone beauty, an altar of wisdom in a world consumed by deaths fierce fangs. Wood and bone fade into ruin. They make the wind the only survivor. But the undying spirit of the wilderness brings word from the ancient halls of bark and branch: “Weep not for me, for i can not die. I shall live forever. I will return with a myriad of sprouts, when Lord Spring sends his blessings. I will arise, from seed to sapling, from tree to eternity.”