The Mothman
by Thiago Desant
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1. |
The Crash
02:44
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In the frigid expanse of celestial seas, a lone spaceship hurtles towards an uncharted planet. Within the cockpit, the solitary astronaut, navigating the interstellar void, bears the weight of a lost love, echoes reverberating through the cosmic silence. As the ship breaches the planet's troposphere, the serene blue sky unfolds, revealing a desolate landscape stretched out below.
With a sense of impending destiny, a mysterious chrome orb materializes in the ship's trajectory. The space traveller, confined by the velocity of his descent, wrestles futilely with the controls. The collision is inevitable.
The impact reverberates through the spacecraft, fire rains down from the sky, and as consciousness fades, the astronaut is thrust into a surreal awakening. No longer a singular being, he finds himself transformed into an ethereal swarm of moths, hovering mere millimeters above the alien terrain. The moths arrange themselves in the semblance of a man, a spectral silhouette created from the fragments of the once-living spaceman.
In this strange metamorphosis, the astronaut explores the unfamiliar existence of being a collective consciousness of delicate wings and ephemeral whispers. The desert stretches infinitely, and the once-solid boundaries of self dissolve into the intangible dance of moth-like particles.
Echoes of desert creatures, at once earthly and otherworldly, reach his ears. The air vibrates with an elusive static. In this surreal transfiguration, a spectral existence unfolds. Traversing the desert, he inhaled the essence of time carried by the winds across scorching sands. The air bore the weight of centuries, whispering tales of a tumultuous history that had preceded his arrival on this otherworldly planet.
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2. |
Waves Do Roar
02:45
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Within, the tumultuous waves do roar,
In my mind, insist that I am an astronaut.
Hypersonic, astronomic flight,
A swift life met its fate.
Omnipresent, the heavens in hues of black and blue,
Yet adorned with shades of pink, purple, and gold.
Vaporous water phantoms drift,
At sunrise's glow, the fire of a new day's birth,
In the nascent dawn, a combustion of hope engirth.
Yet, for me, no hope dost gleam.
A gleaming orb emerged before my craft,
Too fast to alter course,
I met it in a clash,
My spacecraft and I transmuted,
Into a fiery cascade.
My vessel's now smoke and molten metal,
Yet I feel the ground beneath my feet.
I know I'm not alive,
Yet somehow, still living.
Defined by the ghosts of repetition,
Memories anchor me persisting.
She lingers ever in my musings.
Imagination, the creative pyre,
Put you into my arms,
Embraced with love and desire.
Mine realm is one of ceaseless fluttering of tiny wings,
Encompassed by constant, minuscule zephyrs, a life granulated.
Consumed by the allure of luminance,
Cocoons and caterpillars, poised to stir at my behest,
What have I become, a vessel for the night?
A shadowed figure, veiled in flying insects' flight.
My skin and muscles, undulating and loose,
Are not my own, yet they enact my bidding,
A puppetry of sinews, a form unwritten.
Amidst this dance, a spectral sight unfurls,
A swarm of moths, shaped like a man, in twirls.
In shadows deep, where starlight's tender gleam,
A man of moths, his essence like a dream.
When words come and go inside his ghostly head,
Echoes, tales of the past are tread.
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3. |
Moon from a Dream
02:37
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Moon from a dream,
How I yearn for thee.
Come watch the rain with me,
In feral love's wild, untamed decree.
Come watch the rain with me, he bids the night,
A tapestry of memories burning bright.
To revisit old ghosts or dream of new suns,
Phantoms versus fire, a spectral fight is lost and won.
His thousand wings, a fluttering, delicate display,
Each hue a tale, a chapter in the fray.
Moth-man, a creature woven from the past,
In fragile whispers, time's hold steadfast.
Through veils of sand, he guides with subtle grace,
A ballet of sand grains, whispers softly embrace.
With every flicker of his winged attire,
A symphony of recollections, set afire.
In lunar reverie, his form takes flight,
A swarm of winged creatures ascends in twilight.
In the realm of thoughts and actions, a holy war unfolds,
A tumultuous battle where the mind's story is told.
Methinks on moments when winding paths we'd share,
Seeking solace in shared bliss,
A passionate kiss,
A quest so rare.
Oh, how I yearn for a dance entwined in time,
From atoms to galaxies, a connection so sublime.
In the hues of sunset and the touch of desert's dust,
Our hips in motion, a melody in trust.
A symphony of souls, where love forever reigns,
Memories echo sweetly in love's sweet strains.
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4. |
A Mind Without a Brain
06:37
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In the desert vast, where shadows roam,
I wandered far, I roamed alone.
Beneath the sun's relentless gaze,
Through sandy dunes and endless days.
A wanderer lost, in the arid sea,
Until a mirage, a diner, called to me.
Red walls gleamed in the sun's cruel kiss,
A haven discovered, something amiss.
On the diner doorstep, I wander near,
Red walls and a sign, 'Bubble One' is clear.
A flag waving red, atop the scene,
Like a soft drink brand in a wild dream.
Monsters, pink and huge, like jelly, they sway,
Gooey beings in the fading day.
Behind the diner, they move slow,
A foggy lot, where old cars go.
Giant smiles, those monsters share,
In the misty air, they seem to glare.
Abandoned cars and a fading light,
In this strange world, we meet tonight.
In a sky bereft of clouds, no veil of gray,
Yet, the rhythm of rain in my ears holds sway.
Brown noise persists, hisses and pops abound,
In my moth ears, whispers of a mysterious sound.
Do I hear through them, or are these echoes old?
Sounds linger, memories untold.
A mind without a brain, can such a thing be?
Do moths gather knowledge and share it with the free?
The air, a canvas where whispers take flight,
Do I exist within, or am I empty space in the night?
Questions weave through the fabric of my mind,
Am I the air, a formless being undefined?
Could I be space, elusive and vast?
Yet, how can emptiness hold memories that last?
Does time itself possess a thoughtful mind,
Am I the dance of space and time combined?
If I am here, present in this fleeting now,
What underlies, permeates, and shapes somehow?
Illusory or not, I am here, I am aware,
As thoughts fade, what remains in the air?
Perhaps only 'I,' stripped to the core,
A presence lingering, forevermore.
Upon the diner's door, I'm near,
My mothy hand struggles, heavy and clear.
Can't push it open, it won't yield,
Someone comes, my fate revealed.
"You lost?" she asks, eyes wide,
A mothy stranger is here to dine.
"You not scared?" I reply, bona fide,
Silent stare, a moment's rhyme.
"Aren't you scared of my moths?" I inquire once more,
Can she perceive? A challenging lore.
No mouth have I to speak, yet words take flight,
In my winged tongue of the night.
"I sought understanding," she spoke with grace,
"Your winged tongue unfolds," my thoughts embrace.
My moths flutter, striving to articulate,
Sculpting the air, speaking efforts they make.
"Why would I be afraid?" she answers, resolute,
Of moths and mysteries, I'm astute.
Not scared, she declares with no dismay,
"Know I have enough bug spray."
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5. |
Hope
01:53
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In shadows deep, where doubts may creep,
A flicker glows, a promise to keep.
Through darkest nights and storms untold,
Hope's ember shines, an unwavering hold.
Beneath the weight of endless night,
The heart still dreams, embracing light.
In whispers soft, a resilient tether,
Hope persists, entwined with forever.
Through trials vast, when courage wanes,
Hope's gentle echo, a melody remains.
In the symphony of life, a steadfast endeavor,
Hope endures, unyielding, always and forever.
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credits
released January 3, 2024
Sound + Images by Thiago Desant
Sound + Images by Thiago Desant
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
Phantoms Vs Fire Brazil
composer. sound artist. made of sound. silence. and flashing lights.
“We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.”
― Anaïs Nin
discography
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Apr 2024 -
Mar 2024 -
Jun 2023 -
Dec 2023
contact / help
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