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Beckoning light we will set ourselves on fire


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We are nothing we own nothing all that we have was given to us and all that we have will be taken from us because we are nothing we own nothing all that we have was given to us and all that we have will be taken from us
Dance. Tighten your hearts in your hand. Set them on fire as the last weeds of the most remote beach. Dance because you know that is the last time that you can do it. Dance because it is the only thing left to do. To ignore everything around you. Remembering that reality you thought so special, so unique. Then realize its infinite echo. Dance and raise the hearts you’re setting on fire. Burn your hands and throw him to the ground. Turn it off and bury it on the sand. Look at what is left after its drift. You know that it was already buried, It was your intention to rid. Let it rest.
In this moment I don’t need to write my fears and face them all time reading these words again and again. This is yours, this is yours. This is your time to imagine yours, your fears. This time I don’t need to write the worst words I’ve written in my own flesh. Your mouth are more than everything I don’t really need, so just think about the worst things kept in any corner of your head and face them like you never did. You never did. This is because I don’t need to write, I don’t need to express.
Angel 09:01
These nights 02:28
Say goodbye to this warm embrace, forget every single hot breath To set the space free in front of the throne of the eternal ice. Passing all the rest of your life in neverending darkness and storms, Roaming in solitude through this desolated earth, Confusing every dawn with every sunset And every forest with your home. Face these nights with rocks of ice And don’t be afraid of this brand new world, Because it’s going to an end. Finally it’s going to end.
Don’t fear, this is home. Don’t fear, this is heart. the abandonment and letters flowing one after another, giving life and, consequently, giving shape to ideas and concepts which were abstract Stolen from thoughts that were leaked through tissues which were sterile. aseptic flavors, all as if it were deliberately inexistent. but don’t fear, this is organic. The lungs vibrate and stomach stiffens, the case becomes a cage, revealing the secrets of its shape. This is the real limit, it’s a constant struggle to get out of every desirable evasion, to not being imprisoned. No mention of either time or space.


released May 7, 2014

Written by Postvorta, recorded in January 2014 at Studio 73 by the almighty Riccardo Pasini.




POSTVORTA Ravenna, Italy

While there are many bands that traverse and explore the same terrain as heavy titans Neurosis and Isis, very few of those bands embrace these influences and yet do not feel like imitators.

POSTVORTA, the pulverizing sextet from Ravenna, Italy are ones who incorporate a similar style as their influences, but move themselves and the listener through stunning corridors of sound
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