Dedicated to the memory of Chev. Gary Scott Csillaghegyi,
1942-1995 e.v.
You were the wind beneath my wings.
“Euclid alone has looked on beauty bare” –
So the poet said.
– She lied. I’ve sat with you
Long hours in a golden evening,
Looking upon your face,
Into your eyes, into your being.
The poet lied. I know.
to HPL
Come to me at evendark,
Wrapped in flame and night;
Cover me in your cloak of fire
And set my soul alight
With blazing rage of culmination,
In revenge and hope and sorrow,
Then stand with me, by my side,
In the dawn of an alien tomorrow.
Life is cradled in a chalice
Of bone and blood and dream;
Death is Hades’ draining pull
At its fiery wine.
Come to me in Samhein dusk
With thy Staff incarnadine;
Then ride with me in midnight joy
Down Tartaros’ sorrowing stream
That dreams in ash and myrrh and musk
Through hells of Neptune and Mars,
Across the blazing desert of Time
And out to an Ocean of Stars.
Drift with me on the Sea of Night
To the crêpe-hung halls of Persephone;
On a bed of skulls and a cushion of wraiths,
Two screams embracing in Fire and Death,
Silver crushed by iron and gold,
Lace draggled through wet clay,
Moonlight shattered by trumpets and bombs,
Perfume over a ghoul’s breath.
by the High King of R’lyeh
to PDW
On the Western shores of the Ocean Sea,
By the Door to the Halls of Persephone,
Past meadows rife with asphodel,
In a bower in a haunted, tenebrous dell
By the bloody rapids of Acheron,
The wailing darkness of Hades’ Deeps,
The vast, crepuscular Abyss of Dream,
Where Death His dark cathedral keeps --
There the High King bears me down on his bed,
Below the rotting rocks of his haunted hills,
And from the boiling cauldrons of my heart,
There he drinks his slavering fill . . .
. . . While I drink from that same dark fountain’s source,
Where worlds collide, and Suns give birth,
And Eternity runs its endless course --
And the hands of a God heal the savaged Earth.
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