Had we but truth in this world,

  we might yet see how

  the countless tears of the fallen

  were writ as a

  language plain

  To tell of all the worlds

  we have seen in vain,

  fragments of a wayward grace,

  But in time, a veil shall be lifted from our eyes

  Here I drink

  the tears of hope

  Thinking of the splendour

  of dreams shattered and lost.

  Beneath this phantom star's dying light

  The world lay shrouded in a deathly glow;

  I watched,

  until the pale and flickering sun,

  In torment, flamed high,

  then darkness-slain,

  went out upon the gloom.

  Then Night,

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  that fading pall of illusions,

  drifted down like a fog

  The old lords are lost,

  withered and broken

  shadows of a glorious past;

  I shall strike them down

  and lay waste to their empires.

  The banner of the eclipse

  is lifted, a march across the

  shadow-less, pitiless sky

  by those deemed Fair.

  The world may falter

  in the unceasing gloom

  that shrouds the deathless truth,

  As immortal blood spills

  like rain from the sky.

  And upon a heaven

  strewn with skulls and

  the bodies of broken gods,

  I shall establish

  the foundation of my

  Dream:

  a kingdom of stars

  and their virtues

  of sorcery and knowledge,

  of the endless, silent night.

  And to a throne of mist and clouds,

  I shall ascend

  a stellar-manifested truth

  sublime,

  divinity immutable as all of time,

  A dream to encompass

  Infinity.