Behind accepted boundaries of all
known corporeal things
I travelled through cascading vortices
and depths on borrowed wings.
An unlit passage leading to a place
made long before our time began,
where all perspectives are askew,
that wasn"t made for man.
There are vistas unlike any other,
unmoving, yet flowing like waves,
and structures with intricate markings
that wind in hideous shapes.
A pattern would suddenly open,
display its meaning like a whole world.
Spinning, twisting and changing,
rearranging constantly.
One view into that world of an ornament,
of a rune of unfamiliar shapes,
forced harrowing insights upon me,
that I wish I could efface.
A place where no one should venture,
that I wish never existed.
No words can describe the sick grandeur
of its delirious majesty.
Heedless, onward, where man should not go,
over immensities that only they can know.
Into the distant gulfs where stars disappear.
Whisper to the darkness and the darkness may hear.
Drawn into that lambent, shifting, strange
and undulating ornament,
I shudder the moment that I grasp
what it"s carved to represent.
If only I had known the things that waited there,
what I at last would find.
It is terrifying to be seen
by the screaming blind.
Everything around me is writhing
not even the mountains are still.
There is twisting wherever I look
like a myriad crawling worms.
Then from out the meandering landscape
tread the true denizens of this world.
Entities hinted at in writings
concealed in the foulest crypts.
An amorphous entropy twitching,
enveloped in discordant tunes.
Enthroned at the center of disorder,
a living atrocity.
A despicable conscious cloud
surrounded by its progeny,
a countless slithering mass
with the scent of an open grave.
Heedless, onward, where man should not go,
over immensities that only they can know.
Into the distant gulfs where stars disappear.
Whisper to the darkness and the darkness may hear.
known corporeal things
I travelled through cascading vortices
and depths on borrowed wings.
An unlit passage leading to a place
made long before our time began,
where all perspectives are askew,
that wasn"t made for man.
There are vistas unlike any other,
unmoving, yet flowing like waves,
and structures with intricate markings
that wind in hideous shapes.
A pattern would suddenly open,
display its meaning like a whole world.
Spinning, twisting and changing,
rearranging constantly.
One view into that world of an ornament,
of a rune of unfamiliar shapes,
forced harrowing insights upon me,
that I wish I could efface.
A place where no one should venture,
that I wish never existed.
No words can describe the sick grandeur
of its delirious majesty.
Heedless, onward, where man should not go,
over immensities that only they can know.
Into the distant gulfs where stars disappear.
Whisper to the darkness and the darkness may hear.
Drawn into that lambent, shifting, strange
and undulating ornament,
I shudder the moment that I grasp
what it"s carved to represent.
If only I had known the things that waited there,
what I at last would find.
It is terrifying to be seen
by the screaming blind.
Everything around me is writhing
not even the mountains are still.
There is twisting wherever I look
like a myriad crawling worms.
Then from out the meandering landscape
tread the true denizens of this world.
Entities hinted at in writings
concealed in the foulest crypts.
An amorphous entropy twitching,
enveloped in discordant tunes.
Enthroned at the center of disorder,
a living atrocity.
A despicable conscious cloud
surrounded by its progeny,
a countless slithering mass
with the scent of an open grave.
Heedless, onward, where man should not go,
over immensities that only they can know.
Into the distant gulfs where stars disappear.
Whisper to the darkness and the darkness may hear.