Weavers in dungeons – Folk, Gospel, Trip Hop Versions | Song created with Suno (my lyrics, my voice) 14 October 2026
Image credit: Magnific.com
## 🧠 ABOUT THE PROCESS
I transformed my original poem by adapting it into lyrics that were then used for a song generated using Suno, featuring my voice. Below you’ll find part of the original poem, the revised lyrics, and the musical version.
## 📜 ORIGINAL POEM
Born from a nightmare that felt like a fragment of forgotten memory, Weavers in Dungeons recounts the fall of celestial beings, stripped of their wings and condemned to an Earth where even sunlight becomes an instrument of persecution. Time dissolves into fragments of punishment, while ancient names lie hidden in books, holding the promise of liberation. Yet deception lurks within those same pages, and deep in their dungeons, the weavers of destiny remain imprisoned.
[Verse] Crawling Earth, Hybrid beings roam Heavenly nature craving home The Burnt candle, the Wasted flight Amorphous the remnants of light
[Verse] The Morning sun shunned all glory The rebels face a fate gory Beads of consequence, a curbed might Scorching rays, a prison so bright
[Verse] The hand counts Remainders of days Centuries Fly in hours relays Counting the traces of deep scars from wings’ extraction, fall from stars
[Chorus] Eerie lights Decorate their frames Forgotten are their Ancient names They Lie in books to raise them free Weavers in dungeons spinning Three
[Verse] Creepers seed within the tight veins The thickening branch that restrains Every free movement within stare Monster park, Theme of a nightmare
[Verse] The Motionless and Screaming void Face of all expressions devoid Legions of silence flutter stole running still, Mouth a gaping hole
[Chorus] Eerie lights Decorate their frames Forgotten are their Ancient names They Lie in books to raise them free Weavers in dungeons spinning Three
## 🎧 SUNO SONG
Listen to how this poem transforms into music across different styles:
### 🌾 Dark Folk version A folk interpretation of the song, focusing on acoustic textures and a more intimate sound that highlights the lyrical and emotional core with a touch of dark. Weavers in dungeons– Folk Song | My Original Lyrics, My Voice (Suno)
### 🙏 Gospel version Ethereal Gospel, contemplative spiritual vocals, gentle piano, warm organ, ambient strings, deeply reflective. Weavers in dungeons –Gospel Song | My Original Lyrics, My Voice (Suno)
### 🌌 Noir Trip-Hop version
A hypnotic Trip-Hop interpretation blending haunting textures, introspective rhythms and atmospheric depth
Weavers in dungeons – Noir Trip-Hop Song | My Original Lyrics, My Voice (Suno)
## 🎼 ABOUT THESE VERSIONS
This piece has been interpreted across multiple musical styles using Suno, exploring how the same lyrics evolve through Folk, Gospel and Trip-Hop influences.
When she had first started using the shamanic gift on a large scale to summon rains she had known that this would happen according to the Ancient magic rules. These dictated that whatever the outcome in the immediate physical it would be replicated within one year or up to eighteen months from the time the ceremony was carried out thereby molding consciousness at that time. This was known as the frontal projection of the consciousness stream and required the shaman to separate from his/her physical self and stay astral during the intended time. Conversely, in a backward timeloop, one had to make the astral body go three years before the present time to carry out a shamanic ceremony that would affect the present.
Initially, she was meant to migrate from her current city to a special place called Alice Springs. She had pondered about it when the city had come out as a result of her dowsing ceremony as she did not know what this meant. It was then that she realized that there existed an Alice Springs and it was in Australia. By coincidence her own helper was dreaming of going to Australia but rather to Sydney than anywhere else. She thought that consciousness combined with her spells should take her to Australia then in astral form if not in the flesh.
At first, she realized that it was the fires of the phoenix that had been let out in the combined consciousness and to combat the ensuing drought-like state it was necessary to summon the rains. Her location was quite far from the regions affected but she knew that consciousness could carry through the shamanic trance joined with the witches’ spell if she released them within the right level of consciousness and at the right moment for them to manifest.
She knew that GAIA’s program was to regenerate herself by reducing what she considered weeds spread amongst her beautiful flowers. As a good gardener knows, if a beautiful patch of the garden is contaminated by weeds or by parasitic flowers, it is necessary to sacrifice patches of those flowers to save the whole garden. As a result GAIA had decided to wipe out many of what she considered weeds and that were in effect human beings. She did not consider them as more important than others because humans had long lost their connection to GAIA. She decided to do this in the region that lent itself the most to this and entire cities in Australia had suffered raging fires. The shamanic trance and combined witches’ spell helped with bringing some relief with the rains to the lands although it was insufficient as not enough levels of consciousness were drawn in by the worded intention. In short, the magic was diluted…
She wove conscientiously the points keeping in mind most of the time the greatest good of all. She knew that some of what she wove would not be witnessed in her time but in eons to come. Other parts of what she wove were for immediate results or results on the short or medium term. In the beginning it had been disappointing that the desires she had did not have an immediate resolution but she had learnt to accept this. She looked upon her task as a humanitarian one as she was weaving a better consciousness. She wondered how many out there were like her weaving a better series of connections into the collective consciousness.
Sometimes, her old shadows returned and she would need to stop the weaving during those days. That could mean no weaving for several days in a row. She always wondered whether her consciousness would still be connected so closely with the collective consciousness to affect it in a significant way or if these days of absence would have weakened the contact. Every time she had such doubts they were dispelled immediately when she returned to weave for the greatest good of all and saw the almost immediate results. She wondered how she could cope with her shadow selves to bring them out to the light and no longer have to sit in between all the time. This would allow her to keep weaving every day instead of having to make a pause.
One day she caught herself talking to one of her shadow selves that had strayed into the room. It was no longer lurking behind her as they always tended to do when they manifested, watching her, thinking she was unaware of their presence or pretending they thought that. She normally would only observe them and try to fill them with light but they would take cover, literally and refuse to be dissolved most of the time although she had been able to lighten a couple of them. Today however, she decided to talk to the one who had unwittingly strayed into the room.
Why do you need to provoke the advent of darkness, she said
Because that is what we are made of, she answered
But you are me and if you are me, you cannot be made of darkness for I am light
There is no light without darkness so therefore if you are light, we have to be darkness
Will you always exist? Is there no end to some of you?
Who knows? You have taken such liberty with the self that there is so much light. We have kept some to ourselves. It is our bubbles of liberty where we choose to express the colours grey and black. Are they not colours too? Why refuse them? Surely as an artist you should know that a palette must be complete? How would you paint the night without us? Or the ravens or the dark clouds if not for those colours?
She thought to herself that she must be right. She should perhaps leave them these bubbles of liberty.
Images courtesy George Redhawk aka DarkAngel0ne who is blind and uses GIF to “see” art mainly transformed into gif from art works by Thomasz Alen Copera
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