Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Lyrics - Vorspiel einer Philosophie der Zukunft

I apologize to anyone who has received a copy of Vorspiel(...) from me personally or offline without being able to read and understand the texts.

Essentially, texts are my meditations, written down, on what I find to be the six most significant and recurring ideas or perhaps, fixations of philosophy. These ideas being War, (or in a certain sense, struggle), Death, Truth, Solitude and the Self, (or in a certain sense, individuality), Time and Nature. The original goal was to offer a way of thinking, perhaps a new and different way, that I feel is absolutely essential for healthful survival in a modern world gone mad. My thoughts offered on each subject usually only examine one small, aesthetically interesting aspect of these subjects, yet hopefully act as a catalyst for further thought on the part of the listener.

Aside from this, or in addition to, the texts are a rather loose, fragmentary telling of a story. Following the near-universal concept of the fighter, the struggler, the knight, the rider, through the decidedly universal experience of struggle, eventual death and reflection, journey, destination and acceptance.

The vocalized sections of text are written in a more lyrical style, whereas the texts written for the instrumental tracks are written in a more poetic style, using a more antiquated vocabulary and structure.

So, belated though they are, here are the texts for Vorspiel einer Philosophie der Zukunft.

Der Ritter
(...of and concerning war)

beyond the farthest horizons of night;
there forth departs the rider.
where all left behind begins to fade -
It is a locked gate.

the gate stands silent, closed, waiting,
all of nature spread before it.
he who knows the end of pain
is now the master of Keys.

no hall sounds with laughter,
no breath is drawn for song,
no face shivers in the moonlight;
for the end of War.

eternity finds its ending,
in the cold of a dying sun.
songs of leaving press the air -
and open a hole in the sky.

no lake echoes with rain,
no mountain groans with ice,
no tree screams to the night;
at the end of War.

one is most alive when dying.

(...of and concerning death)

… And it happened that the rider clad of sable raiment in those moments immediately thereupon bethought and was ware of a great many things. As all around, spread far upon the laund whereupon had been made much warring and clamour of arms, now lay the dying and forgotten. Ever alone they are in personal torment, ever alone ere their death is given. As beneath the unfolding towers of day and night, enfolded to mud and worm, stream and leaf; the grave is also the birthgiver, the wakeful world the tomb.

Among the dead wend the maidens, clad in sable colours of mourning, making lamentations of much dolour. The cloaked ones went also their way, and bespoke the many orisons of their kind, yet they would not approach a great many of the fallen. Arose then the mists, and the reek of decay from the newly dead, set upon by crow and worm. For already was the transfiguration come and gone to those who had once drawn breath, now so unmade and relinquished.

Bethought the rider of the thence, now, and whence, of man’s attenement and nature’s artistry in this wise:

Upon the brief span of time whereupon day changeth to night and umbrous colours cloak the holts and slades below, ere the moon’s travels.

Upon mind’s paintures given to behold ere crossing the river of consciouness.

Upon the noblesse of mourns through trees that hold fast against wind.

Upon water’s turn of chance to purpose from fell to sea.

Upon the whispers and tumults through wealds bedight with snow.

…And upon all things whereupon doom is seemly passed… of finality, though to proudly endure whilst they may.

Such are things that truly hold beauty beyond the comprehension of man, and which provide keys to the world beyond time. Came then the rider as the master of keys, and assumed the transfiguration, in crossing the river of consciousness the last time.

Hold upon finality, embrace, forth of transfiguration, thereupon the wakeful world is changéd, and all is undiminished, elevated in cause of its end. For that is the gift given to men above all beasts, hight - the knowledge of finality, which doth enhance and garner the wakeful world.

Death is the gift that giveth the wakeful world chance of beauty.

Nichts und Schönheit
(...of and concerning truth)

Distant below, the silent fields
the spears are in the dead,
the light scalds the mist,
the crow picks the skull.

Always from the dead fields
flows the river of screaming,
flows through the forests of stars,
flows to the Well of Consciousness.

The old man beholds the peak
his complete life spent to attain,
his steps left behind the others,
his choice alone to journey further.

He spoke,
without sorrow,
without longing,
without pain,
without fear,

To the sky, his words sought truth
Understanding then happened
Truth was ever nothing,
is ever nothing.

Complete, the old man fell dead.

Much he beheld on his path
beheld valley
beheld forest
beheld lake
beheld night

Beauty will save us from truth.

(...of and concerning solitude and the self)

…And thereafter departure; went then the rider clad of sable raiment, to wander errantly over slade and fell, through stream and thorns. The night wealds and hithermoors, as yet bedight in memory. Crossed then the rider over many dales, each darker than the last, and anon chanced upon coppices of linden, oak and ash, boding of preception. Through the exceeding gloam therein fell lemes of half-light, and all was silent as of drawing breath. Presently the rider did lief enter upon the forest endless, and beheld then the weald of swevens. The bear returns. The wolf moans. The hart watches.

After long faring upon unwonted paths, anon came the rider upon a swath of wode over swale, wherein extant limbs, white from eld passing, appeared to the rider through the dark. Upon this untoward place fell nor wind nor light, and the air waxed empty and stale, weary of being held. Herein walked the unbroken line of whisperers, as wraiths of despair and mourning, to hitherward ends of sight. The mourners, nor witting of their despair, nor of other ways, nor of danger nor wanderlust; as they were, beyond everything.

Bethought the rider further of the thence, now, and whence, of man’s attenement and nature’s artistry in this wise:

Upon the singular sensation of the moon’s enlightement upon wanting flesh.

Upon the dissevering and malleation of stene into the fastness of man’s construct.

Upon the florets of the vernal term first yawning unto the light.

Upon the stillnesse of night atwain rend of lucence and clamour of stormful protest.

Upon the haze of dying breath as gathered upon release to winter gale.

…And upon all things whereupon doom is seemly passed… of finality, though to proudly endure whilst they may.

Such are things that provide keys, though are as beyond heed of the mourners. One must betake to enter the weald sauvage, by overgrown paths and be put to adventure; of danger, of night, of chaos. For to yon, who art beholden to chaos, are keys bestowed. Bethought then the rider upon others selfsame in wandering such paths, upon their fitness and withdrawal to wonder.

The rider, the self that thinks of the self, turns and mounts forth as master of keys and is assumed into the light. The most profound truths are understood when alone and remote.

Loneliness is a function of nobility.

Der Ring des Kosmos
(...of and concerning time)

with no fear of the journey.
Seek your way through
through the vale of sleep,
through the river of memory.

To the castle beyond time
fast in the realm of eternal.

How I hate the wakeful world.

Nothing has no beginning,
and nothing has no end.

How I hate the wakeful world.

speaks only in words of decay.
Leave the path of singularity,
see the distance with new sight,
see the end and beginning as one.

…and already is all consciousness made unaware
…and already is all feeling made indifferent
…and already is all life made dead
…and already is all light made dark

How I hate the wakeful world.

The ring of Power is now the ring of Time.
…and Time is the last enemy destroyed by the noble man.

(...of and concerning nature)

… And thereupon accedence, in fearless light, rewove then the rider with cosmic chaos - sang anew the lay of eternity. Bespoke finality; Know thou, ye world of evidence doth exist in causality of chaos. Chaos giveth the turn from soleness, begat the individual, and leads ye world of evidence to ruin, upon the end. And so the wheel turns.

Know thou, chaos is a function of nature. And nature as hindmost truth is nor near nor far nor beyond, rather it is the way of such things, completely without turn. What then is nature? Indifference.

The rider then remembered of remembering;
Remembered of the world less agéd, now triumphed over by time.
Remembered why we held our fear close in sunless hours.
Remembered why the grave looks north.
Remembered when we had no speech, only song.
Remembered when we asked the forest of ourselves.
Remembered why the tree-custom determines to rejoin the world with the sun, maugre witting of winter’s return.
Remembered of the wan-light, and the third way, the solar turn, beyond dark and light, atwain night and day. And upon such memory, wist then the rider of order in the cosmos, of dignity over the microcosm, reverence under the macrocosm. And so the wheel turns.

Bethought the rider finally of the thence, now, and whence, of man’s attenement and nature’s artistry in this wise:

Upon the revelry and wundor assumed to the self come ware at the self.

Upon all ceased and fatal remains upon mortal reply to fell and wold; made hale of such enhancement.

Upon trenchant blade thus sheathed upon beating heart.

Upon the fiaunce of wisdom upon turning of consciousness.

Upon the puissant moment the cosmos became ware.

…And upon all things whereupon doom is seemly passed… of finality, though to proudly endure whilst they may.

Such are things that exhibit meaning beyond statement. Forsooth, not begat of nature is man - contrariwise, man is nature. An only man wouldst turn to memory. That man is a function of nature, the vestige of the way- as crest to sea, as cion to holt, as stene to fell. What happened sith as blazons in the nightsky, now as waking world and rider, henceforth again as ground and firmament, so is the way of everything, and in such wise, nothing dies. And so it is not ye world of evidence that truly shifts, but the perception.

What then is the philosophy of the future?
To see destination become journey and journey become destination.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Vorspiel einer Philosophie der Zukunft

I've made the second Wende album available through this blog and through

These are the only two blogs I endorse to post a download link at this time. The first album link has been removed, as it will soon be re-recorded in full.

Lyrics and Album Details will be posted soon.

Listen and Understand HERE.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Album Completion

The second Wende album/demo "Vorspiel einer Philosophie der Zukunft" is completed. I might make it available on this blogspot, and possibly a few other blogs in the near future. In addition, I hope someday to provide the option of purchasing a more complete product (booklet, lyrics, etc.) for a nominal fee. I am very proud of this album; it came out very close to what I set out to create, so many months ago. The whole album was mean to be "honest". There are lots of imperfections, and very little time or energy was spent on altering what went straight into the computer. There are no fade-ins or -outs, some slightly off guitar notes, a dropped stick, and even a nasal sniff on a vocal take. Basically what you hear is exactly what I was meant to play, in every sense of the word.

-Recorded through a Fostex MR-8mkII digital recorder, except vocals, which were recorded through a (very cheap) tape deck.
-All guitars were played on a Dean Evo Noir guitar, factory pick-ups, Eb standard tuning, with a single pick, now in possession of Dead Insomniac of Skinwalker.
-All distortion was provided by a Digitech "Death Metal" pedal, with both 1/4 inch outs used simultaneously. Level @ 12:00, Low @ 3:00, Mid @ 1:00, High @ 11:00.
-Bass was played on a Esp 5-string bass.
-Drums (unfortunately, as I would've preferred live drums, but such is apartment life) were played on a Yamaha DTxpress, Beech Custom factory preset.
-All keyboard parts played on a Yamaha DGX-505 portable grand.
-Background noise on tracks 2 and 6 public domain, found on internet.
-Background noise on track 4 is me walking around the north side of Rainy Lake, in the North Cascades, on 5-6 feet of snow.

This album/demo is very much inspired by philosophy. The lyrics and text outline aspects of my philosophy, but also what I believe to be a meaningful philosophy for others, and aspects of the philosophy of some of my favorite philosophers. My goal was two-fold: to create a repeatedly enjoyable album, and also to enunciate a meaningful and healthy morality that can be used and applied both personally and impersonally, toward all manner of situations.

Looking forward, the third Wende album/demo should be completed in about a year and a half (this seems to be the normal gestation period). I will also completely re-record my debut s/t album/demo, because I'm dissatisfied with how it came out, and I feel that I didn't do the music justice. Hopefully, I'll have that completed before summer is finished, then it's on to the third album/demo, which will be... different.

Zamiel - Feb. 14, 2011

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Self-titled Album Complete Lyrics


a thousand times
of ages

What once was
will be again.
What can be
and all that has been.

A voice
on the wind
to foretell


A faded moon may seeming shine
On the stone of my life's ending.
Centuries have passed since the night,
More than smoke from my flesh reached the sky.

A single breath to the ages of the sky
Was the passing of the age of the sun.
In the cold nights where once was known
The mysteries of time and power.
Only shaded dreams might now remember
Beyond our summons-in the realm of eternal.

A fated moon may seeming shine
On the last of those who will suffer.
Whispered in the trees, our tale
Completed in the last hour of sorrowful darkness.

A weary sword let fall to earth-forgotten
In the passing of the age of the sun.
I pass out of knowledge here as then
Ever to become as I once was-silent
Keys were lost to the realm of eternal
The mysteries of time and power.

And the living were led into the light.


In the darkest depths
of a forest as old as time
a shadow came alive.
After many full moons
a cold wind took the spirit,
drifting unseen above
mountains of darkness
and forests of shade.

A distance
not of time or space.
A distance
of all and nowhere.
To the forest
The forest of
our darkest fears.
our fears of the light.

In the starless sky
only empty light can be seen
but no light can ever
touch this existence
so great is its malice.
Fear follows its journey past
mountains of darkness
and forests of shade.

Thousands of eyes cannot see

as the dread silently encircles them.
Their hopeless souls are broken
in the cold, starless night,
there will be no hope for a tomorrow.
The vile darkness is deepening over
mountains of darkness
and forests of shade.


Eine Waldwiese
Jenseits der höchsten Bäume
Eine Waldwiese
Wo nichts Leben
Der Himmel verdunkelt
Die Erde brennt schwarz
Die Luft aus schwerem
durch menschliche Tod.

Ein Schrei

weit über das hinaus zu halten
Ein Schrei
von Schmerz und Trauer
Der Nebel hinabsteigt
Das massengrab füllt
Der Traum von dieser Welt
verblasst von Wissen

Ein blinden Mann

er gehört das Grauen
Ein blinden Mann
belastet mit dem Alter
Die erste von vielen
Die letzte zu hören
Der blinde Mann, fährt er fort
auf seinem Weg zum Nichts


The sky is clearing

an empty light falls
where darkness will allow
that even flesh can feel.

Blood of posthumous splendor

condemned to fall unknown.
Nothing can now behold
what died then.

As the legends

are no longer told.
As the songs
are no longer sung.
As the wisdoms
are forgotten.

As the paths join the forest.
Trees remember and mountains recall.
Yet minds cannot behold
That darkness lies buried there.

As the legends
are no longer told.
As the songs
are no longer sung.
As the wisdoms
are forgotten.


On the fields of the final war,
no light shines.
Silence is everything;
Silence of human pain.
Darkness becomes, where
horizons seek the firmaments.
No screams to betray
as oblivion falls into us.

No light will ever reach our eyes,
memories won't recall.
Shivering bodies in empty darkness,
Shivering bodies of human pain.
Held in a past that once was,
where new horizons began.
Emptiness will become
as if nothing ever was.

Fallen through Dark Ages past;
centuries of wakeful torment.
Voiceless bodies so alone in pain,
Voiceless fields of human death,
The forest of our ageless fear
has overgrown the unknown past.
The shade of the many trees,
hides the sight of a distant sun.

What would be beginnings, without an end?


I ascend

Drifting only as thought
All that mortals can know.

All light begins to fade

the mysteries of darkness unfolds
after so many dark nights
Death is my morning.

The sky begins to open

I complete my eternity.
All journeys have endings
My journey is not yet over.

To the Castle in the sky

that can only be seen
When no tomorrows
will ever come.

Ages will come and go

the Castle remains forever
though less behold the gate.
With each passing year.


Was niemals stirbt, ist das, was war nie geboren.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Postings of the near future.

The next eight posts will be the lyrical content from my first demo. The demo was self-released on September 9, 2009, to coincide with the approximate 2000 year anniversary of The battle of Teutoburg Forest, which staved off the Romanization, Christianization and Iconoclasm of Germania for over 700 years.

Saturday, December 4, 2010


This "blog" exists to further the message and music of Wende.