Here behold unshapen dooms,

  And shadows rising from their tombs;

  Oblivion, with eyes like stars,

  silver beams streaming like scars,

  etched into the flesh of night,

  burning hopes now gleaming bright.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Now stretched across nightmares surreal

  of ancient lights empyreal.

  Empires of a vagabond waste,

  from elder, unseen worlds displaced

  undyed with neither truth nor lies,

  pleniluned gaze in eldritch eyes.

  Forlorn, now, that cursed light

  that blinds and burns our mundane sight,

  and beyond those old star-born gleams,

  Gods slumber in a vault of dreams.