You Were a Garden of Empyrean Light

by Wounds of Recollection

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

    Donations are greatly appreciated, but not required. Downloaders may also receive a small bonus with their purchase.
    Purchasable with gift card

      name your price


  • Wounds of Recollection Cassette
    Cassette + Digital Album

    Stone gray Type-I hand-dubbed cassette with pro J-card. Hand-stamped cassette shell. Limited to 25 copies (20 through Realm and Ritual).

    Includes unlimited streaming of You Were a Garden of Empyrean Light via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Sold Out



The 7th album from one-man, American, post-black metal project, Wounds of Recollection.
Inspired by the blissful lonesomeness of Appalachia and nostalgia for simpler times.

Follow me on Instagram, @woundsofrecollection
Available for free download on Bandcamp and streaming on Spotify, Apple Music, Tidal, and YouTube Music. Released independently.

"Even against the ambience, I still feel joy"


released July 26, 2019

Writing, lyrics, guitar, bass, vocals, production, and performance by Wounds of Recollection

Drum samples by Judd Madden
Cover photograph by Jay Mantri (


all rights reserved



Wounds of Recollection Atlanta, Georgia

Nostalgia, regret, nihilism, and loneliness fuel WOUNDS OF RECOLLECTION's bright and melodic yet desperate blend of black metal, post-rock, shoegaze, and drone music.

Formed in 2014 and released independently.

Inspired by Cascadian Black Metal and the solitude of the Smoky Mountains.

Created and produced anonymously by one-man artist, Annos.
... more

contact / help

Contact Wounds of Recollection

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

Track Name: Fog Over Appalachia
These souls came to Earth in tact, mesmerized in the lushness of youth.
I never drank from the fountain.
You never grew in my garden.

Tell me what it's like in Birmingham. Do the streets wind like the roads in the mountains? Do the feral spirits still run from your touch?

Please write me one day. I hope the leaves grow greener.
Please write me one day. I hope the leaves grow greener where you stay. Past Murphy and Marble, I feel further from home. But in these hills I'll decay and become new.

I buried our love deep in the garden where nothing else could grow. I can look you in the eyes and know it was never meant to be.

What could have been?
Now it could never be.
And you feel content,
So I feel content.
Track Name: Hemingway
I picture you on a window seal reading Hemingway; pondering life in London or somewhere you're far from here.
Somewhere you're far from here.
Let me know you're safe. I just hope you're safe.

"Let go."
I'll tell myself that until the sun burns out.
"Let go, let go."
I just want to let you go.

Your home feels so alien to you. You find yourself deep in another world where no one knows your name, no one knows your face.
It brings you peace to know it will all end one day. We will grow old and slowly fade away.

Your eyes well against the pages of Hemingway's prose that you picture yourself in. You see yourself somewhere else.
I wish I could take you there.
I wish I could take you there.
But still, we grow older.

"Isn't love any fun?"

Teach me to be unaware the world seems bleaker when I am alone, when I grow old.
When I grow old, will you still be there?
Nothing seems like it will ever be greener.
Track Name: Irrevocably
Your body wrinkles into green dust as each passing anxious moment recoils your spirit. And in your home, you wilt like wildflowers.

I ponder a simple life.
I ponder.
I ponder a simple life.
I ponder and note what could have been.

No word in my ancestral tongue can describe the calmness of withering age. But through simple lives, we feel it on every nerve ending. And in every way, you were a garden of empyrean light.

A blinding bed of flowers, indescribable.
A binding of sorts, twisted by roots and bare hands.

I find it irrevocably calming. I can feel age wither me into wrinkles. The summer clouds remind me of where home used to be.
And I wither into dirt, but I'll be resting at last.

I still feel joy.
I still feel joy.
Even against the ambience, I still feel joy.

Wounds of Recollection recommends:

If you like Wounds of Recollection, you may also like: