Tainted by tautology Are only the incoherent rhapsodies of knaves. Why does the sacrificer forthwith not offer his own father? Beneath a swarm of flies.
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And amid the offal, abide with me. Abide with nothing and rejoice. Abide with me and despair and scorn the base upon which their ranting is built.
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The abyss is elucidating to the inquiring mind. Vane waste of matter encompasses chasms of solitude. Fetid odour of burnt animal horn. Revered by luke-warm evocations. And deadened susceptibility to all sensate impressions must be. What is derided by those who relish in the comfort of their putrid abode.
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Tainted by tautology are only the incoherent rhapsodies of knaves. Why does the sacrificer forthwith not offer his own father? Beneath a swarm of flies. And amid the offal, abide with me. Abide with nothing and rejoice.
Fleeting realm of abdication. Illuminated carcass. Carnal vessel has sprung a leak. Does the dining rat divine those planes of nothingness? Vane waste of matter. Rejoicing in being does not suffice?
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Entangled in reasoning. Why is it that vision’s vultures still strive? Dead, decaying and devoid of poetry. Symphony, humble abode. Why is it? Deleting significance and sound. What is it you sense?
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Embracing essence and her innermost void. Why digress? Incarnation of non-being is absence is void is omnipresence. Why despair?
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A mote constitutes what to me is not all, and eternally all, is nothing. Unattainable precisely because it is the object of longing. Man is god when he devines, and a beggar when he ponders. Supersede the essence of their being. Crowned with the laurel wreath of fame. Decorated with the myrtle leaves of love.
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Mouthpiece of nature. Refute and deride. Beneath a swarm of feasting flies and amidst the offal. I scorn the base upon which their thought is built. Why is it the apostate forthwith does not immolate his own father? Eleemosynary convalescent. Ignivomous leper. Decorated with the myrtle leaves of love.
And emerging from the inner ocean shines forth the recollection of nought.
That strife perceives the summons to a solemn funeral pile. And the fleeting gleam of these flitting hours meets in her aspect and her gaze.
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To you the strife was given. River of life! You were not born for death. He that has an ear, let him hear. What to me is nothing. To the overcomer will vision’s vultures divulge the auguries of slumber.
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Gorging himself on a wailful choir. These ephemeral truths he can impart. To the convalescent and the basilisk. Anthems reek of burned animal horn. Thus fetid skies sever the harvest of a quiet eye from her.
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Vision wallows about in symphonies of fright. Cadences of light. And emerging from her inner ocean is that hymn she bore well. The torments of her bower
Bear a dust grain of lustre. Lest the stars totter in the guilt of his blood. All your heirs wrung from you was but the peril which flung back unto night’s innocent countenance.
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Flailing at those hopeful chants that twinkle and herald the sallow shroud which to gaudy days vision denies. The voracious flames leave tenantless their master’s abode. And strive toward the heavens. And languish for the pyre. Why do you behold the mote which is in your brother’s eye.
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But do not perceive the beam that is in your own eye? Fetid skies sever the harvest of a quiet eye from me. And their bones are tombless as is their flesh. Ephemeral and solemn, brood and sleep on your heart. The tenantless spheres.
And so be to every kindred aspect. A barrier and a ban. And the hapless lepers shall walk with me in white. Anthems reek of burned animal horn. And fetid skies sever the harvest of a quiet eye from my people.
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Vision wallows about in symphonies of light. Cadences of fright. And emerging from my inner ocean is that hymn you bore well. By the blood. Out of every kindred. Out of every tongue. Out of every people. Out of every nation. The auguries of thunder.
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Are redeemed to my inner ocean. Emerging from the waters shines forth the recollection of emptiness. A polluted stream this recollection is, forsooth. Hearkening unto the inherent void. And hurling forth scanty fare. For the leper cannot behold without envy, despair. May he become an overcomer. May she be a convalescent. A bridge to me and not their goal. Verily, a putrid stream this is.
A devourer of flitting shades gave birth unto himself. Uroboric rays of light. Remote from despondence and perennial dearth. Within every dewdrop a world of struggle. And on every day, are we wreathing a band of sallow flowers.
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To bind us to the earth. The bounds of entropy pervade the skies and the earth. A devourer of flitting shades who dwells in rays of light. We have given birth to for the mighty dead. An incessant cascade of immortal drink. Dripping unto us from the shady rill’s brink. From the nativity of space, a devourer of flitting shades. Who dwells in rays of light passes into the void.
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But still will save a bower soothing for us. And a sleep bearing dreams. That element of arduous attempts and quiet breathing. Whose births are covert, whose shapes are manifold. And whose prosperity cannot be known. And on the morrow our vain vigour is established as before.
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A devourer of flitting shades who dwells in rays of light illumines the incessant fountain and withers. When our noblest visions moulded themselves. The devourer of uroboric rays of light was made by this.
/ / /
Satisfying in ways that aren’t really explainable but better felt and heard, Vision Wallows in Symphonies of Light, Ingurgitate Oblivion’s 2017 offering, is a magnum opus of genre challenges and style defiance. Trying to wrap your mind around what these masters of the time signature and moody atmospherics create is no easy job. The trick is to never take for granted anything that is being played and never anticipating anything, at least not truly conventional song writing or song structures. (hellbound.ca)
Vision wallows in Symphonies of Light marks a significant cornerstone in the genesis of IO. Being the successor to Continuum of Absence, Florian Engelke parted ways with the line-up in charge of Continuum of Absence owing to personal and performance-related reasons. On Vision wallows in Symphonies of Light, Florian was finally able to pursue the original idea of the band again – in fact a creative grain instilled in the of trees and orchids outfit already. This original idea has always been about pushing the envelope of both quality and artistic progression. We think Vision wallows in Symphonies of Light is a solid testimony of just that.