How thin lies that veil above the deeps?
Godless realms shrouded in the dark,
Where the eyes of man can barely look
For the dank that screams in silence.
In perpetuum crawl the things of the deep,
Unholy horrors without names, ever unseen,
Separated by the most sere of layers from our
World and all that we call home, festering.
Disturbance of the aether mayst spell doom
In the temple hall where breed thick and viscous
Smokes and mingled blood of a century
And more besides, priests with hassled robes,
Vestments of sordid rituals held as example.
Questions go unheard, ideally, at best, lest
The Watchers hear what a hierarchy wishes for
None to speak of, voicers of dissent stormed
Upon for beliefs, singular ideas surprisingly shared
Amongst a populace afraid to opinions voice.
In the smoky halls where dusty throngs gather,
Of silken robes and wizened faces, hidden lives
Lived inside of coverings, there arrives another,
Ruiner was their secret moniker, known by malice
Maleficent with inside eyes long darkened.
In the surprising demonstrations of love
There breathes the soul of passion,
Flames set free at sights, heavy sighs
For wonder at the hunger, warmth
Wet on these warm lips, soft to touch.
Determination in the desert of inspiration
Drives forward that artistic spirit, poets
Pushing onward past succulents, cacti
Like spiky gods with hallucinogenic eyes
Staring through dusty winds; the journey.
For all the efforts expended there lies reward
In the travelling, the push to express, be
Recognised and do all despite those dire
Afflictions of body and mind that came before,
Still here, now a driver rather than a dry limiter.
We drive on through adversity, obligations
Realised and adhered to, goals for the self,
Of the world and our inherent hearts bleeding
For uncaring reactions personally taken aboard
Lest they go unclaimed, spikes without a source,
Our dreams bound only by what limits we set.
Oft times the journey is found superior
To destination, the journey made about
Such strong ideals that pale beside ends,
That hoped for finish far less than each
Step, however wayward and faltering.
On past lapping shores of flaming lakes that
Make dance shadows of daemoniac horror in
Obscenity pure, without censure or twist, ulterior
Motives, all points plain and to be seen, darkly
Above ground, away from these lakes of fire,
Roiling clouds of sulphur boil from volcanoes,
Spewed forth aside from rain clouds, distinct
For their choking clamour and teargas effects
In the midst of deathly pallors and odd dreams
The world of serenity lies as a pearl formed
Amid the swirl of solar storms, mad auroras
Dancing upon surfaces poised, micro world