we lust,
for our lost world, that crumbles
under the feet of our inner demons
that strive for glory in our books...

terrible images carved in stone pages
a monolith of fear that stabs our hearts...

and our creations rise from the abyss,
to feast from our tender flesh,
and we diminish under their black spell,
spoken in a language wielded in the past by us...

ghosts, ghosts of a world long lost
under deep blue water
that shines...
in the wake of a red dawn!

forgotten...