(2018 Secret World Legends Poetry Contest)
Have you embraced and chased the Broadcast’s Lord?
A hiss of static truth, Presenting lore
Profoundly hid in math’s relentless chord,
Placed close to deaths; which warns what is in store.
You’ll search in graves, walk with the restless dead
Half-trapped between this clumsy world and next;
And when their numbers burn inside your head
Look then to get a sane man’s frantic text.
Long trip you’ll make, to vampire-haunted lands.
On Gaia’s quest you’ll be, to put down ghosts
Who picked unholy halls to make their stands;
Excise them all, confront their tattered host.
Extend this Age’s grasp, and end His reign.
No dead may rule. Not even at Samhain.