The Desh

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Mythos poem.

Submitted: July 21, 2019

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Submitted: July 21, 2019

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We look out unto the stars,

This time I will not discuss Mars.

Unlimited possibilities,

My responsibilities.

 

Horror and beauty intertwined,

Gulfs between the stars maligned.

The potential is infinite.

 

The Universe is much bigger,

More than the study of the Astrologer.

We see but one facet;

Of an infinite jewel.

A multitude of dimensions lie here,

Near but apart to overhear.

 

My knowledge of the Dimensions,

Came from the Book of Eibon with tensions.

That Hyperborean Sorcerer,

Worshiper of the Devourer.

 

A dimension lying with our own,

In where the Desh have their home.

Humanity invisible to them,

Their land an infernal gem.

 

Eibon was interested in them,

Even when they caused mayhem.

They had affinity to human minds,

Eibon used them to spy on his own kind.

The thoughts of his enemies,

The rediscovery of his own memories.

 

The skins of the Desh are supranatural,

Related to thoughts and memories phantasmal.

Eibon made a skullcap from their flesh,

According his papers from the Desh.

Able to remember and record his dreams,

The insights from this experiment by teams;

Of Wizards, Sorcerers and Warlocks alike.

 

His insights were many,

But it was Necromancy!


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