Muse, my fair Muse,
Like water down a mountain
Muse the story of tattoos.
Ink under the skin,
Future’s history entwined
Are stories yet to be.
Muse the story of cataclysm.
Silence, delphic Silence,
Like an unfound sixth sense
Silence is malevolence.
It ticks,
The hands of a clock
Abyssal in depth.
Silence enslaves the Myst.
Myst, my deadly Myst,
Like floodwaters high
Myst is the invading cultist.
A thing of beauty,
Telmeros, branches high above
Will never fade.
Myst consumes the living.
Myst consumes the dead.
Silence remains.
We musn’t flee,
We must claim victory.
Myst, tool of my adversary,
Like a friend now corrupted
Myst is the newest cemetery.
Tombstones,
Soldiers sodden with dirt
Will never fade.
Myst consumes the living.
Myst consumes the dead.
Battlefield won.
Silence, deafening silence,
Like a terrible weight of thought
Silence is indomitable.
It ticks,
Axiom to all but its own
Despite its defeat,
Silence begets silence.
Muse, my fair Muse,
Like water in a placid lake
Muse the story of tattoos.
Ink under the skin,
History’s future entwined
Are stories that have been.
Muse stories of determination.