[In remembrance of H.P Lovecraft 1890-1937]



Engaged in dreams.

But the vision is more then it seems.

Beyond this waste,

lies warm gardens that shines in their grace.



-Take me there!

I'm so tired and broken.



Over the oceans of dust

beyond the memory-shores.



-Give me a journey,

an endless one.



Beyond the mirror lake,

and all of its horrors



And so he slept through this dream as a weeping child,

seeking an passage to this promised land



And so in the distance,

he saw a cooping,

and then a wall, all covered with ivy.

-This is it!

I have arrived.

Beyond this wall lies beauty for miles.

In the wall was a door almost in gold.

Thou he struggled with all his strength,

the door were locked.

-Why is this?

This cannot be.

The door is locked

I have no key...

So came a voice whispering...

The voice came screaming...

-ZAKARION!

...Whispering

the voice came screaming...

ZAKARION!

Zakarion the dreamer's town,

in which he found the key.

The bolt to the secret door,

a drug to make him see...

...Far beyond this waste,

so he travelled forth.

Undid the gate and gazed into

what he thought was...

...Warm gardens that shined in their grace,

was now nothing, just emptiness and space.

A thick silence and a smoothing embrace

as he stared into Chtus face...

His soul was drained.

His mind was gone.

As he drifted away

into obliviones