In the wind of the mind rises the Turbulence called I
It breaks down, showers the barren thought
All life is shocked, this
desert is the abyss
Wherein is the Universe
The stars are but thistles in that waste
yet this desert is but one spot accursed in
the world of bliss
Now and again travellers cross the desert
They come from the Great Sea, and to the Great Sea they Go
One by
one they walked into the Land beyond the Stars,
Following the secret Pathways into Creation unknown
Guided by the forbidden
Grimoires of Necromancy
They heard the Call of Cthulthu, loudly roaming in the Sky,
nonesome trembling from below
Spectres arose
before them,
terrible Offsprings looked at them with their darksome eyes of Death
Only the pure shall pass...
May He who
Tresspasses the void within
and masters the Spellcraft of the Necronomicon
descend into the Netherworld in all his
Glory...