If the sound of the Big Bang can still be heard by tapping into cosmic radiation, then perhaps the song sung at the end of the world can be reconstructed from the hole that it left.
Rapoon begins to rematerialize the undone physical universe by cultivating the seed pearl of a leitmotif, a piano rolling the same, deep configuration over tongues of hissing sand, tolling bells carried on the crinkled air of the time winds. Over the sigh of planets dying with a whimper not a bang, the piano returns, drifted farther away, slower, heavily echoed. Zithers twinkle like stars in a galaxy reeling, wheeling, shedding useless metals.
Prayers from the cloisters of a thousand religions clump together. A more assertive piano sends sparks into Lustmordian darkness, the last violin solo lures banshees into the open and more ghosts slip out through a fracturing orchestra. Northern lights hurtle backward, their greenery swallowed up by a single, freezing dot that then disappears. Time’s arrow has been returned to its quiver.
Song from the End of the World is available on Glacial Movements.
