Had we but truth in this world,

we might yet see how

the countless tears of the fallen

were writ as a

language plain

To tell of all the worlds

we have seen in vain,

fragments of a wayward grace,

But in time, a veil shall be lifted from our eyes

Here I drink

the tears of hope

Thinking of the splendour

of dreams shattered and lost.

Beneath this phantom star's dying light

The world lay shrouded in a deathly glow;

I watched,

until the pale and flickering sun,

In torment, flamed high,

then darkness-slain,

went out upon the gloom.

Then Night,

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that fading pall of illusions,

drifted down like a fog

The old lords are lost,

withered and broken

shadows of a glorious past;

I shall strike them down

and lay waste to their empires.

The banner of the eclipse

is lifted, a march across the

shadow-less, pitiless sky

by those deemed Fair.

The world may falter

in the unceasing gloom

that shrouds the deathless truth,

As immortal blood spills

like rain from the sky.

And upon a heaven

strewn with skulls and

the bodies of broken gods,

I shall establish

the foundation of my

Dream:

a kingdom of stars

and their virtues

of sorcery and knowledge,

of the endless, silent night.

And to a throne of mist and clouds,

I shall ascend

a stellar-manifested truth

sublime,

divinity immutable as all of time,

A dream to encompass

Infinity.