My entry

As I carelessly took a side route,
a shortcut through the cold meadow,
I encountered a strange, yet intriguing,
dark and dreary kind of fellow.
He told me he had something of mine,
he can no longer hold,
and handed me a box,
that would withhold the untold.

I wondered as I glanced through
the shimmering xenon cube,
why a sophisticated descendant of York
would pass this gift to what most consider a rube.
It hypnotized me as though to sink,
pulled down through lurid dimensions.
Heavy, as if my dreams were coated in zinc,
plummeting through tunnels that were dark but yet glistened.

In these tunnels echoed voices ,
of Peculiar but yet familiar riddles.
Simple to me suddenly,
yet still quizzical in the middle.
Each line of opulent malice rhyme,
where each verse seems more aggressive,
and even jocular words ,
became more progressive.

I began to shed my mortal form, momentarily going numb,
and questioned who I once was or what id become.
As my old form faded, and spawned a sagacious mind,
not sure who I was, my identity lost in time.

Was I a nincompoop repeating a frivolous loop?

Or an elder of heraldic benevolent kings?
Only called ignorant for being overly generous to the queens of dreams.
Whose tender  songs were that of  expectant witches.
Whose eye were sealed with seven stitches,
Each witch pregnant with immortal warriors to be born,
when  they are grown they’ll adorn a uniform of thorns,
with the symbol of a rhino, baring a crescent moon for a horn.
Giving strength to their swords for it's power conjures storms.
Devouring the demons, the opposing trespassing vikings,
With there blades of blood rain, which struck down like lightning.