Old Ones Poem by Chris Noir

In those odd distances, the fire is cold,
The mist is of the ages, and the stars don't shine,
In that strange abyss the hatred is old,
The vast bloody plains of vengeance divine.

Darkness lies beyond the gates,
its spirit dead, floats there fast asleep,
Beyond the gate of time or space.
Vast dimensions dead, buried black and deep.

Yet its priests are among us still,
Chanting prayers for its return,
To bend us all to iron will,
Of the eyes that pierce and burn.

In those odd dimensions, the stars are dead,
The ruin is of today, and it keeps piling on,
In that jaw of void eternity spreads,
And it will see us leave and triumph when we're gone.