The dreams are dark,
The thoughts within them darker,
More morbid than the realm of hell,
Is the kingdom where nightmares dwell.
Neither light nor sound enter,
This pale world of silent winter.
I fear most in this grey land,
The chilling emptiness wherever I stand.
I stand rigid lest the unknown
Should grab my hand
And pull me down through the quicksand.
I strain to hear as the wind blows,
Carrying fell voices, the cries of foes;
I run with the wind, but it turns to mist,
Enveloping me as it swirls and shifts;
Suddenly the blinding fog lifts;
Surrounded I am by figures of living stone;
People long forgotten, their sins unknown.
No motion or speech,; but their eyes shone
With lustful insanity; no trace of humanity;
They glare through me, pupils ranting profanities.
I pray for those I love,
To be spared from this godless land.
I stoop to quench my burning thirst,
From the black waters of the black land;
My face, old ,shrivelled, the liquid mirrors;
I gasp, awake and realise,
Ragnarok is nigh at hand.
