arkhamsoft.com

[darthkiwi]

I'm not at all convinced that this belongs in the "Completed Resources" section, because said section is within the "Video Games" section, and this poem has little (read: "nothing") to do with video games. But, having mulled over it a little, I believe that poetry is an art form and can thus be considered "work" and, since this particular poem is now complete, it can thus be labelled as a "Completed Resource".

I've posted "Blessings" over on the CoC DCotE forums, at this thread:
http://callofcthulhu.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=4721&st=0

However, I'll copy and paste it here in its entirety anyway.
Edit: Added nice "Fungi From Yuggoth"-esque subtitles to each stanza.

I. A SEARCH ENDED

It had been old, even as our earth cooled:
Some great and shattered space so vast and grim -
A fearful place. The walls between worlds were thin
There - were made thinner by men barely schooled
In arts and practices now wholly lost -
Men from some ancient unremembered time
When the night was bright with stars, and fraught with cries
From unknown beasts - and all was buried in the frost
Of a winter that would barely hear of spring
For countless generations. By what means
The men died I know not - only that, in my dreams,
Which rippled as of dim remembering,
The city I had found by way of dreams
Had said strange rites - then shattered into screams.

II. THE CITY

These stones were old - but not as old as that
Which hummed in darkness deep beneath the rock.
Even as I stepped inside, the blocks
Lining the passageways, decayed and cracked,
Seemed carved with sigils; some bore blackened holes
Where insect things unknown to humankind
Skittered in the torchlight, and all the bricks were lined
With a fine red dust. The clicking of my soles
Was the first sound of manlike, sentient tread
To grace these halls for a thousand centuries.
The roof sloped down; I crawled upon my knees;
The path descended - my tortured soul felt dread,
For I could hear the sound of chaos curled:
The beat of drums - the hum of far-off worlds.

III. CASKETS

I found myself alone within a room
Born of no natural rock, carved into forms
That hummed, as though the chiseled shapes had drawn
An etching in the universe. And soon
I recognised the drumming of my dreams
And saw the shadows, writhing on the stone
As though the ones who'd called this city home
Were living still - and knew what I should see.
Before me, at the centre of the chamber
Stood three caskets, each a different hue.
The first was gold, and glittered - strange - with dew.
The second, carved to show a skull, was silver;
The third was ebon. I shuddered but was bold,
And went to touch the casket made of gold.

IV. THE GOLD CASKET

The woods were old; the leafy screens above
Glowed in the sunlight, rippled with the wind.
Above, the vaulted sky, the white clouds rimmed
With a gold haze, and all about the grove
Were wholesome cries - the flapping of white wings
And the echo of a waterfall and pool.
The floor was dewy grass; the air was cool,
And all the earth seemed happy to be stirring.
And yet, the place seemed strange: perhaps too fair,
And suddenly I knew, as though in dreams:
This place was false: the woods, the gurgled streams
A paradise of ignorance. The air
Filled with whispered voices, and the hum
Of thin reality and those deep drums.

V. A NEW VIRGIL

The caskets stood around me as before;
The shadows flickered, writhing in the gloom
Of the dead city. All about the room
Was the deep drumming, and the hum of unknown lore.
But as I gazed upon the shadowed wall,
One shape seemed strong - or, stronger than the rest:
Almost, it seemed, as black as chaos' nest
Out in the darkness where the dead drums call.
And then - the spectre spoke. "It has been long
Since last one such as you came to this place."
There was some form: it seemed as though a face
Were mumbling some toneless eldritch song.
I caught some fading accent as he sighed:
"My name was Howard, friend - and I have died."

VI. LORE

"Here in this timeless chamber, is a rift:
A wound in time and space born as the world
Cooled - a place where reality has curled
And sprung itself; a place where worlds can shift.
The ancient ones who built this city knew
Of this space, and with now-forgotten lore
Fashioned this chamber, lined the walls and floor
With signs and sigils; the rift was focused; grew,
And opened untold lands before their eyes."
"But what of them?" I started. "Where are they now?
This city died - and yet I know not how."
"These caskets hold the answer," Howard cried.
"Go, try the silver." I did as I was told
And touched the silver: glittering, and cold.

VII. THE SILVER CASKET

Cold was the place, and loveless to its core.
I seemed to be a spirit, floating free -
It seemed as though this were eternity,
And I a shade, within its boundless store.
No other voices were there but faint song,
Mournful and melancholy; broken souls,
Silver and faint, fluttered within the bowels
Of darkness' realm; a weak, despairing throng.
And yet, these men - for men they once had been,
Though shapeless prisoners and hopeless silver mist
Would - could - not die: forever would exist,
Bearing immortal sentience, unseen.
I would not stay. Dimly, Howard called;
I left that world in awe - yet was apalled.

VIII. ENSNARED

I shuddered - and was back within the hall
Of godless caskets. Howard, my guiding shade
Gazed languidly - and, though my wits were frayed,
I whispered hoarsely: "God, man: what in all
Creation was that night-black, lonely tomb?"
Howard, though, was silent. The ghost paused,
Sighed - from sorrow? Or from some other cause?
But at length, my guide spoke. "These walls, festooned
With flitting dark, hold more than shades and dust.
These were your viewpoint, prison, and the prize
Of the silver casket. You would be wise
To ponder well each vision - for you must
Choose one before you leave." Now, that U.S. drawl
Was all regret. "I shall," he said, "tell all."

IX. FALSE GODS

"We stand above a rift in endless space,
Chipped wide by men - by those upon the wall
Who now are only shadows. They reached all
Eternity - but found one godfull place
At the centre of infinity: the chaos court
Of Azathoth - the one with many names
And many minds - fragmented and to blame
For earth, death, birth, and these caskets dearly bought.
The men - I know not how - claimed these three gifts.
They are blessings from the gods - or from a beast
That wears the mask of "god". The gold grants peace,
But meaningless peace; the silver puts a rift
In place of death: the live, eterne, but bleak.
And now, you must the final offer seek."

X. THE EBON CASKET

And so, I went and did as I was told.
The ebon casket, dull and dark and black
Seemed to gloat in certain triumph, seemed to wrack
My brains with loathing. My fingers brushed the old
Wood - dear God - and instantly my mind
Was all aflame - was blazing in the light
Of a thousand suns - of timeless clawing night
And all at once I knew what I should find
Beneath a certain south-pacific sea,
Beyond a certain unknown mountain range,
Within one black book - upon each dreadful page.
All this - and more - I knew, for I could see
What lay in gulfs, what chattered in the wings
Of a play not made for man - but for greater things.

XI. DESPAIR

A rush of death, a stink of cloying light,
A burst of raw infinity - and then,
With one mad heave I lurched to earth again
Alone among the caskets, save for slight
Shimmers on the wall of those dead men
And Howard. "Now," he uttered. "Now you choose."
His ghostly face seemed clearer in the gloom
Then e'er it was before - a longish chin,
Dark neat-brushed hair - I staggered to this face
And there bewailed: "Oh, that I'd never dreamed-
Never set foot here! Three blessings? God, these seem
To me, more curses - a bright but pointless place?
An endless, half-dead purgatory, or - worse -
To know all horrors in this universe?"

XII. AN UNHOLY COVENANT

Half mad with raving, half wild with despair,
I crouched upon the flagstones, whispering
Prayers to a God - or to some God-like thing.
And Howard spoke. "The shadows you see there
Upon the wall chose immortality -
The second casket - for that was what they sought
In journeying to great Azathoth's court.
They shall not die - though they may ne'er be free."
"And you?" I trembled. "I take it you chose too,
Had dreams as I, was led into this place?"
"I was - I chose the ebon chest, and space
Unfolded, showed me every heartless truth.
But my gift was not wasted: I brought tears.
I wrote of what I saw, and I spread fear."

XIII. FINALITY

"You will not choose?" he asked; I shook my head.
He sighed, but smiled - and once more moved to speak.
"These ghosts require a host, but they are weak.
When first I came here..." But in my veins now, dread
Seeped - "I chose the ebon casket: claimed
A life of turmoil - to tread a lonely path -
To be servant to the grim God Azathoth.
And when I had this worthless planet stained
With tears and despair, then did I return
Here - and as reward, another casket chose:
The silver. And now, my wait comes to a close.
You'll not choose? Why, then it is my soul's turn
Once more to walk." And suddenly my core
From out its old familiar flesh was torn.
I was usurped by he who harrowed men
And Howard Phillips Lovecraft lived again.

[allicorn]

Glee! That's really terrific DK, I love it

Stuffed to the gills with excellent turns of phrase but I especially like: "what chattered in the wings
Of a play not made for man - but for greater things" - hehe! - delicious!

Alli
_________________
The king, with beak and talons. The king, in the form of man. Nothing escapes those eyes. He sees everything.

[darthkiwi]

Glad you like it! The play analogy was mostly down to Edgar Allen Poe, from his poem, "The Conquerer Worm". The final stanza reads:

Out- out are the lights- out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Unfortunately, the rest of the poem isn't as jaw-droppingly brilliant. But I think this stanza more than makes up for that.

[allicorn]

Hey y'know what - have you considered submitting a reading of this to FNH for his Cthulhu podcast? He's always looking for new content - generally '20s era Lovecraftian stories but y'never know.

Alli
_________________
The king, with beak and talons. The king, in the form of man. Nothing escapes those eyes. He sees everything.

[darthkiwi]

Actually, I intended to do just that! But I'm going to have a go at composing some background music for it first, so it sounds more like that incredibly cool reading of Fungi From Yuggoth.

[allicorn]

Great minds an' all

Alli
_________________
The king, with beak and talons. The king, in the form of man. Nothing escapes those eyes. He sees everything.

[Quinjet]

I have to confess that usually this type of thing goes in through the eyes and leaves little impression on my brain. I was going to read it as a service all Arkhamites deserve when we contribute something to the cause. Then I was going to confess my ignorance of such things and make suitable noises. But guess what? I really enjoyed it!
Well done DK, another piece of fine writing. Keep up the good work n all that. Looking forward to the Cthulhu podcast version. Maybe even the comic! Lol
Q.
_________________
All alone or on a cracker

[darthkiwi]