Ancient crescent of the moon
hath brought the daemon from its sleep,

not that in which
only the blessed could sleep,
but that in which the dead shall rot,

for nevermore shall I see the blessed light of day,
or play with my friends, surcease of sorrow nevermore...

cold brought in from the open window,
see the ancient thing of horrid universe,
a cosmos unbroken, and cold...

untrodden wasteland of nothingness
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