Vision Quest

Underworld, of changelings, where shadows loom, There lies a world, vitrified, consumed, Its surface hardened, a relic of alchelimes, a testament to sorrow, frozen in language warning signs. Once a haven of life, brimming with dreams, now encased in glass, a tragic plightstoscene. Whispers of laughter, now silenced, veiled by the icy grip, by memories assailed upon it's sardonic lips North, stood a river, flowing, purely succumbing to the liquid cascade of dreams. Now stands a monument, empty and obscure, a sewage treatment plant of fear and conspiracy, not theory, but excremeofsupremacy of Triremes of war eclipsing peace and prosperity. A mosaic of black emotion, punishment's devotions. Change resides in this vitrified tomb, like fangled shards of black mirror cutting Bards and Poets in handling, reflecting from corpused firmament womb, harpypsychords in accord with gloominess and despair etched on its face, Obsidian tears. The competing vision of the North- sees a great Western deluge. A revival of the Sisterlings and the Brotherly. Beasts roam like children in caravans to witness mankind, to pay homage for eyes opened, having seen for the first time, how things are meant to be, sublime.