Grove
This song which ancient fates foretold,
While it plays, the world will grow.
Grow and grow it will not stop.
Even when bodies start to drop.
Within the trees, in the grove,
A flower bloomed all but alone.
Grown with song,
Covered in earth.
The serpent's hand, the nine did birth.
A flower picked.
The soil screamed,
a vow of blood,
the scarlet ring.
Guardian of earth,
sing of rebirth.
Soul of stone,
a concrete tome.
floor of green, a secret keen
long ago, blood did flow.
A howling law lost in steam
the eldritch king, a golden sheen.
The rest of the poem is torn off; the Library quakes all around you.
page revision: 7, last edited: 25 Jan 2024 20:25