We Three Things

We three things of Ry'leh are

Coming here from stars that mar

Confounding landscapes, forbidding lore

Fear what we have in store.


O Great Old One, dreaming dead

Speak dull thoughts to unhinged heads

Tossing, turning, but still learning

We beg for him to wake again.


Born so loathesome far from here

Where man looks it tends to blear.

Fraying thought but will endow.

He stirs right now.


O Great Old One, have we said?

Would love to put mankind to bed

Bat wings flapping, voices snapping

Softly speak of Ry'leh's end.


A tiny soul to offer, have I.

Made with love, our fear and lies

The veil is lifting, we are drifting

Cthulhu wakes, and order dies.

The End

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