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Copyright 2006 by Wm. Michael Mott

Like the angry eye of an undead god

Wrapped in mists of stars and wrath

The Lantern hangs, the Lantern burns,

Awaiting those who know the path.

Lantern of Lost Stars, of Lost Souls,

Swirl of Suns both hot and cold;

Souls unhuman, with an ancient malice

Lurk in star-hewn pit and palace.



Cthulhu dreams in spaces deep

Beneath the sea in quaggy keep

And in the Lantern, folded Vhoorl

Waits as home and hidden world.

Cthulhu dreams in either place

For both share name and sometimes space.



The Lantern wheels, it turns and soon

The galaxy will hear the tune

And join entropic, redshift roar

When Old Ones batter down each door.

The Pattern Drawn, the stars unwind

And death will come to sentient-kind.



The Lantern is the Crimson Eye

Awaiting the forthcoming Cry

Which will awaken those who sleep

In places high and places deep.

And when the gyre's complete once more

The Eye will open every door.



The dream of life is but a dream

And before the crimson beam

All living flesh will fade away

And Old Ones once again hold sway.

The worlds will quiver and will shake

When all the Old Ones come awake.



Beneath the reddish, hellish gleam

A million worlds will give one scream

And Terror fall upon their skies

To stifle, strangle, anguished cries.

The vault will open, red with scars,

Before the Lantern of Lost Stars.


by Wm Michael Mott

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