Chant of the Bleeding Hours

Weep / kneel / hush the name

The coil turns, the body cries,
A wound that dreams, but never dies.
No hand can hold what isn’t real—
We bleed to think, we bleed to feel.

Weep / kneel / hush the name

The circle bites with unseen teeth,
We dance in fire, we rot beneath.
Our pain is prayer, our flesh the hymn,
We chant until the coil grows dim.

Weep / kneel / hush the name

No mercy waits beyond the turn,
No lesson lives, no gods to learn.
The Himantor is deaf to plea—
So scream, and burn, and let it be.

Weep / kneel / hush the name

The spiral feeds and does not care,
It coils through thought, it coils through air.
We suffer not to cleanse the sin,
But just to keep the circle in.