Twas the night before Christmas when I heard the call... |
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see ‘twas the matter. But out on the snow did nothing appear, Good old St Nicholas still wasn’t here. But then on the roof, I heard something strange, A whisper, a murmur, from some distant age. The secrets it held, antiquarian lore, Perhaps I could glean if I listened some more. I crept to the hearth, feet light on the ground For I couldn’t resist that unutt’rable sound. No language it was that I’d ever heard, But something that from the Beyond had emerged. It spoke of a city far under the sea, A blasphemous place not for you or for me. Cyclopean blocks and slime-covered stones Were the things that gave form to the great city’s bones. And then I was there! I was walking its streets! Was I waking or dreaming? Was this some deceit? I wandered the towers, indescribable halls; I saw the daemoniac shapes on the walls! The proportions were wrong in this place, I was sure. But what did it matter? It’s ancient allure Drew me deeper and deeper; I wanted to learn All the things that I could before I returned. But that’s when I saw it, the Thing which does Sleep, A Thing that should never return from the Deep. I stopped where I stood, no more steps could I take For what if this unnameable Thing should awake? What madness was this? Was I back in my bed? What had I witnessed? Just a dream in my head? No, I know what I saw, I know it was real. Somehow I had seen What Should not be Revealed. They say I’ve gone mad, that my words are unclear, That I gibber and murmur of this Thing I so fear. But it is a mercy that they do not know All the Truths of the Things that are lurking below. |