The Great Old One

Edge to the dark, silent abyss,
Where stars shrink to persist.
Those silent shore, beckon the sea,
By glittering graves below, to be.
The constant old remain anew
Ancient spun the cast is due.
Words of God less halt the tide,
That lurk beneath the waters lied.

For no science the man would know,
What sin to find that shatter grow.
For there that stay, unknown, unbent,
Not words to tell the wrath contempt.
A thread of scores in line in drove,
Ships assail death rattles trove.
The great, the old, long at the end,
Reach as the hands the call to men.


Art: The Great Old One by JJcanvas (Jorge Jacinto)

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