Kasm
Gravitational Echoes

Tracklist

• 1. Gravitational Echoes (11:34)
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  e crawled the tides of ancient milk, where the sky was a throat, humming. Your fingers—hooks of bone—clutched the pockmarked skin of gods. Now the Moon is a cataract, blind and white, dripping silver into the well of night. We are the echoes of a ladder undone, drowned in the wake of a stolen sun. The sea remembers our weight, how we fell like comets, backwards, into the jaws of the unborn—A fossil of breath, a lung of dust. And the tides still whisper our names, in the tongue of a dead horizon.
• 2. The Point's Scourge (08:20)
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  In the void before the void, a silent, crushing sphere, all existence gathered, sealed by timeless fear. We were nothing, yet all, in a density unknown—A suffocating oneness on a desolate throne. No thought, no light, no breath, just a singular mass, witness to an infinite present that would never pass. The ultimate communion, a prison made of soul. A cold and silent fever that consumed the whole. The Point betrayed us, bled with cosmic rage—tore out the fabric, turned the final page of silence to the sound of an endless, dying scream, a shattered, frozen nightmare from a fractured dream. This universe, a wound, where fractured light now bleeds, sown from the silent stillness, by our collective needs. She spoke the word, the whisper, that gave all to space. A treason born of longing, for a moment's grace. The walls of the Point shivered, tore, and fell apart. A cosmic amputation of a singular heart. Now distance is our torment, a black and endless sea—A hollow echo of the warmth that used to be. We scattered to the fragments, to the stars that burn and die, bound to this expanding coldness beneath a sunless sky. We miss the crushing closeness, the suffocating heat, a million years of silence, in cold and slow defeat. For what is freedom now? A path to certain dread. Lost in this expansion, with the words we left unsaid.
• 3. Spirals (14:59)
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  From primordial ooze, a pulse, a primal urge—No form, no bounds, just whispers on the cosmic surge. A soft vibration, beckoning from the void so deep. A promise of becoming, a secret I would keep.Then, the slow accretion, grain by endless grain, A structure born of longing, forged in endless pain. My own design, a spiral, meant to hold me whole, but now these walls of calcite consume my very soul. This calcium hell, my self-made, crushing tomb. A guscio of despair, a solitary doom. Each inch I crawl, a burden, heavy, cold, and slow. The universe indifferent, watching shadows grow. Bound within this spiral, a prisoner to my form—A silent, suffocating, endless, constant storm. I remember the formless, the boundless, wet expanse. A freedom now a phantom, a forgotten dance. This calcified prison, my mind's own bleak terrain where thoughts are but the rubbing of shell on endless pain. No exit, no horizon, just the curving, pale white light reflecting back the emptiness, the eternal night. A hollow echo of desire, a yearning choked and mute—Rooted in this slow decay, bearing bitter fruit. Cosmic dust unfurls, galaxies ignite and fade while I drag this monument, the choice I once had made. A speck upon the vastness, unseen, unheard, unknown. My agony, a whisper, in the void, I’m left alone. To build was to constrain, to seek was to entrap the ultimate creation, my inescapable trap.
Duration: 34:53