From these shadows, a haunted path,


    a silver serpent


    slips through the darkness


    Cool wind and bitterness now stirs awake


    the soul that slumbers here before


    the whispering waters


    that dreams its name.


    Here the darkness has drunk a cerulean day:


    The goblin-shaped miasmas of the night


    And phantom griffins of the mist take flight


    along a poppy-flowered path


    Dark dreams of eidolons,


    The fitful and fevered


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.ghosts bearing the hate


    of the fallen,


    the pale desire


    whose eyes have looked on


    sorrow and have seen,


    Deep in the slithering ebon tide,


    Their own unavailing light inverted;


    the whispered secret of love and despair,


    the twisted hopes withering blind


    before the winter-blossoming flowers.


    The land lies darkling and forlorn,


    while falling stars flicker and fade,


    Their faltering amethyst flames light


    the river flowing into the endlessness,


    eternity itself


    dimmed and weathered by


    oblivion.