Work Text:
There are places I can't visit
They don't really exist
Just a story, imagination
Myth and legend
Fickle mist
We return to running waters
Never changing frost or flame
Standing stones, rocks eternal
Seem unlike and not the same
Made-up cities, maps of moons
Drawn by madmen in the gloom
Under flickering candles,
Chanting words of consonants,
Things without vocal cords
Flapping wings, slithering among stars
The Ancient Ones
Creators, destroyers not seeing us.