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The Darkness of Carcosa
- The Darkness of Carcosa -
Upon a world 'neath a distant star, or stars that bedeck a far off void,
Of space and time, that naught on Earth could of one single mind consider...
There lies a realm, a plane, a reality that even the gods themselves avoid!
And were one of mortal mind to venture there, their soul itself wouldst shudder.
Yet, hath my feet not tread the sands of the world and realm of which I speak?
Aye, for in my mind's eye I behold still the shore upon which I stood that hour!
Where clouded mists wrapped close the beach where the waves crash and break.
Was it one sun or two, that sank behind those waters, fueled by a pallid power?
If I told thee the way to thence, for I could, it wouldst not profit thee at all.
For when one stands before that lake, its' waters glistening with faint glimmer,
The shadows cast by the sunlight lengthens and the darkness begins to fall.
The heat of the day ebbs, as the chill of night causes not the sands to simmer.
There, in Carcosa, the place of the lost, the damned, and mad or so it is said...
That those who dwell there walk neither among the living or among the dead.
Strange art the signs, yellow and terrible, writ upon the monoliths bare,
In the wastes of that domain, upon which the ancient deities turn their gazes...
Black is the night, and in certain seasons black art the stars at which stare:
The inhabitants of that forsaken threshold filled with crags and granite mazes.
Moons no human eye hath witnessed rise on those eves, and the pious pray!
Whilst across the distant skies, the circles of the world spin on, so endlessly.
Stranger still art the things that fly there, and that upon which they ever prey,
Obedient to an eldritch will of tattered glory and yet of unspeakable majesty!
Lost is Carcosa, forsaken by those who should hath guarded it far better.
Darkness descends upon its' sands, as the lake's waters lap the faded shore,
Allowing only the chosen few to cross over to the city without any fetter.
Should I tell thee the way, pass on a secret that will make thee want more?
There, in Carcosa, the place of the lost, the damned, and mad or so it is sung...
That those unworthy who pass its' gates must be, on sharp crosses, thus hung.
What songs they sing, the things that make music unheard upon Earth,
For only they who walk the paths of the Hyades shalt ever remark the sound...
As like unto naught that hath ever been created, nor aught given a birth!
Filling the soul and spirit with sensations that canst for all of eternity resound.
The King who dwells amid the spires beyond the lake conducts the music so!
In tattered glory, of eldritch will, behind a mask pallid yet alien in all its' hue.
A commanding presence, upon the arrival of which the desert winds all blow!
Bearing the secret of a name older than time itself, a thing forbidden and true.
Behold ye this royal dignity, the King who is also Queen in gowns pale.
Hear no more the music, for it doth die when that one strides forth in might!
The people of the kingdom gather, they sing and their song is but a wail.
It heralds the faded day, and acts as the harbinger of the new black night.
There, in Carcosa, the place of the lost, the damned, and mad or so it seems...
That those who venture there never leave, not waking nor in fondest dreams.
Dim grows the hour, and the signs art shown to those who with eyes,
To peer beyond the confines of even the soul, beyond even life and death...
Hath the power to discern the secret ways to walk beneath those skies:
Where the dread forms walk bereft of the disguises they wear in the flesh.
Were they ever gods, in the memory of the ancestors of the human races?
As lost as the place they now call home, they watch the pilgrims thus pass.
They who pass to see the King who is also Queen, clad in their new faces,
Only to unmask when the time is right amid a cacophony of anxious gasps!
They live, and lived; they die, and died, to earn a glimpse of the truth.
The songs fall silent, the dread is felt, and tears not wept prior art so shed,
Before the feet of the terrible ruler who comes to test their very worth.
To dry their tears, to share a wisdom and knowledge for which men bled!
There, in Carcosa, the place of the lost, the damned, and mad or so it is said...
That those thus driven must pay the price and turn the lake waters blood red.
Upon a world 'neath a distant star, or stars that bedeck a far off void,
Of space and time, that naught on Earth could of one single mind consider...
There lies a realm, a plane, a reality that even the gods themselves avoid!
And were one of mortal mind to venture there, their soul itself wouldst shudder.
Yet, hath my feet not tread the sands of the world and realm of which I speak?
Aye, for in my mind's eye I behold still the shore upon which I stood that hour!
Where clouded mists wrapped close the beach where the waves crash and break.
Was it one sun or two, that sank behind those waters, fueled by a pallid power?
If I told thee the way to thence, for I could, it wouldst not profit thee at all.
For when one stands before that lake, its' waters glistening with faint glimmer,
The shadows cast by the sunlight lengthens and the darkness begins to fall.
The heat of the day ebbs, as the chill of night causes not the sands to simmer.
There, in Carcosa, the place of the lost, the damned, and mad or so it is said...
That those who dwell there walk neither among the living or among the dead.
Strange art the signs, yellow and terrible, writ upon the monoliths bare,
In the wastes of that domain, upon which the ancient deities turn their gazes...
Black is the night, and in certain seasons black art the stars at which stare:
The inhabitants of that forsaken threshold filled with crags and granite mazes.
Moons no human eye hath witnessed rise on those eves, and the pious pray!
Whilst across the distant skies, the circles of the world spin on, so endlessly.
Stranger still art the things that fly there, and that upon which they ever prey,
Obedient to an eldritch will of tattered glory and yet of unspeakable majesty!
Lost is Carcosa, forsaken by those who should hath guarded it far better.
Darkness descends upon its' sands, as the lake's waters lap the faded shore,
Allowing only the chosen few to cross over to the city without any fetter.
Should I tell thee the way, pass on a secret that will make thee want more?
There, in Carcosa, the place of the lost, the damned, and mad or so it is sung...
That those unworthy who pass its' gates must be, on sharp crosses, thus hung.
What songs they sing, the things that make music unheard upon Earth,
For only they who walk the paths of the Hyades shalt ever remark the sound...
As like unto naught that hath ever been created, nor aught given a birth!
Filling the soul and spirit with sensations that canst for all of eternity resound.
The King who dwells amid the spires beyond the lake conducts the music so!
In tattered glory, of eldritch will, behind a mask pallid yet alien in all its' hue.
A commanding presence, upon the arrival of which the desert winds all blow!
Bearing the secret of a name older than time itself, a thing forbidden and true.
Behold ye this royal dignity, the King who is also Queen in gowns pale.
Hear no more the music, for it doth die when that one strides forth in might!
The people of the kingdom gather, they sing and their song is but a wail.
It heralds the faded day, and acts as the harbinger of the new black night.
There, in Carcosa, the place of the lost, the damned, and mad or so it seems...
That those who venture there never leave, not waking nor in fondest dreams.
Dim grows the hour, and the signs art shown to those who with eyes,
To peer beyond the confines of even the soul, beyond even life and death...
Hath the power to discern the secret ways to walk beneath those skies:
Where the dread forms walk bereft of the disguises they wear in the flesh.
Were they ever gods, in the memory of the ancestors of the human races?
As lost as the place they now call home, they watch the pilgrims thus pass.
They who pass to see the King who is also Queen, clad in their new faces,
Only to unmask when the time is right amid a cacophony of anxious gasps!
They live, and lived; they die, and died, to earn a glimpse of the truth.
The songs fall silent, the dread is felt, and tears not wept prior art so shed,
Before the feet of the terrible ruler who comes to test their very worth.
To dry their tears, to share a wisdom and knowledge for which men bled!
There, in Carcosa, the place of the lost, the damned, and mad or so it is said...
That those thus driven must pay the price and turn the lake waters blood red.
Published 23rd Oct 2019
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