Turning over in ancient slumber,
Blood-hungry Gods stir within
A crystalline palace.
Forged from archaic spells
Deep and purposeful,
Did you intend to wake them,
Or flatter yourself of Magi intent?
The universe quakes at their wakefulness.
And lo! Those eyes
Shake my soul to it's core.
They arise,
Darkness ascending,
Sleepy-eyed and staring
From the far reaches of space.
Chaos ascending,
Dimensional angles
Never before comprehended
By a mortal's mind.
Disproportionate and warped,
The slumber-cave of these Gods
Is indescribable!
Without mind to pause,
The Mage spoke those archaic
Soundless words
That cracked the crystal prism wide.
Once forgotten
But never truly lost,
These motions of magic
Tore asunder gigantic black spires,
Holding back ancient evil.
In this time unknown to them,
In a dimension unknown to their presence,
Time of collision at hand.
(Fall 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem