Lovecraft

Maybe Lovecraft was right,

As laying awake I shiver,

The invisible beastly faces,

That leer, unknowable, in the night.



He who said that the greatest sensation

Was that screaming terror that surrounds

Humans in the coal-black places

As they know they have no control over creation.



And while the good lie asleep in bed,

The sorcerers who were hidden escape,

Praising Gods beyond the soul’s capability,

To understand, as to be saved is to be lead.



While those who froth in madness scream,

Of things that were beyond their understanding,

Their dead eyes glaring back the reflections of eternity

And they know that nothing is as it should seem.



And from this blinding, choking bleakness,

One should find the reason to hope,

But no, all that is left is things beyond things,

Manipulating human stupidity and weakness.



As here a little child I stand,

On the edge of something so horrifically vast

That no man or woman can glare into it and return,

With soul intact from that dark land.


Fumbling around in the dark, men keep

No council to help them stay on the path,

Drowning in dreams we can finally see,

That visited Lovecraft in his sleep.