Nyarlathotep

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This may be a bit exclusive for the ones not aware of/ not interested in Lovecraft's work.

Submitted: May 04, 2012

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Submitted: May 04, 2012

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The desert sand- algid dirt, 
He walks it in the night, 
When the orb of night its face doth not show.
 
Instead, cosmos is his face- 
Gleams the way through the Empty Space.
 
In chaos he ambles in search for lost tracks,
And to meet him in one's path,
Misfortune comes.
 
With the help of black robe,
Transforms to any shape he likes.
 
He knows all ancient words,
For they're as old as he; 
He speaks them as the Earth, it shakes beneath.
 
He watches over goners:
Who failed to serve his purpose.
 
Dares one resist his claim,
His salts will in the sphinx decay.


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