Moon lore

Perpetual dreams of a petrified world

prey on the deities of time and tide,

lest the last of lamenting lords

lost the lump of a lunar lore.

Obvious views of obnoxious minds

list the lore in the lowest lines.

The might of the moon with its magic mien

mourn not the loss of its magnificence.

Repressing tales of repugnant mouths

ruse the arcane art of ancients.

Gods of time and tide will rise

gone are days of their silent past

wrath of a God is hard to face

their halls of blood and bones are real,

a labyrinth of death and decay lost in time,

lores and songs won't echo there.

Screams that haunts the rational of minds,

rational minds, a handful remaining,

but the silent halls will hide their sights

and the silent lords will be lost from sight.

Death and chaos their playing ground

darkness and madness their hunting game.

Strip your prowes and bent your knee

else your pride will be ashes grey

summon your tears for they will be called

with or without their willful consent.

From these only would they be back

the ancient art of arcane lores

once they are spelt, you will rise in life,

break that chrysalis of mortal mass

be one with that song of one

be one with that omniscient thought

to curse the sanity of those retrospectives.