Set Sail to Mystery

When the moon is on the wave and the glow-worm in the grass, and the meteor on the grave and the wisp on the morass. When the falling stars are shooting and the answer'd owls are hooting, and the silent leaves are still in the shadow of the hill. Shall my soul be upon thine, with a power and with a sign. Though thy slumber may be deep, yet thy spirit shall not sleep. There are shades which will not vanish, there are thoughts thou canst not banish. By a power to thee unknown, thou canst never be alone. Thou art wrapt as with a shroud, thou art gather'd in a cloud, and forever shalt thou dwell in the spirit of this spell. Though thou seest me not pass by, thou shalt feel me with thine eye. As a thing that, though unseen, must be near thee and hath been. And when in that secret dread, thou hast turn'd around thy head. Thou shalt marvel I am not, as thy shadow on the spot. And the power which thou dost feel, shall be what thou must conceal, And a magic voice and verse, hath baptized thee with a curse. And a spirit of the air, hath begirt thee with a snare. In the wind there is a voice, shall forbid thee to rejoice. And to thee shall night deny, all the quiet of her sky, and the day shall have a sun which shall make thee wish it done. From thy false tears I did distil an essence which hath strength to kill. From thy own heart I then did wring, the black blood in its blackest spring. From thy own smile I snatch'd the snake, for there it coil'd as in a brake. From thy own lip I drew the charm which gave all these their chiefest harm. In proving every poison known, I found the strongest was thine own. By thy cold breast and serpent smile, by thy unfathom'd gulfs of guile, by that most seeming virtuous eye, by thy shut soul's hypocrisy. By the perfection of thine art which pass'd for human thine own heart. By thy delight in others' pain and by thy brotherhood of Cain. I call upon thee and compel thyself to be thy proper Hell! And on thy head I pour the vial which doth devote thee to this trial. Nor to slumber, nor to die, shall be in thy destiny. Though thy death shall still seem near, to thy wish, but as a fear. Lo, the spell now works around thee and the clankless chain hath bound thee. O'er thy heart and brain together, hath the word been pass'd, now wither!

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025

The old man before you is not reality. What I saw and tell you so, none deemed it to be true. A cry of dismay turned my hair into grey. And the odour of the sea, for never shall abandon me. The thunderous, raging void in which all oceans end, took me by supernal force, into the Maelstrom I descend! Flashing lights, crushing sea! Thunder and storm came unto me. Blackened clouds and copper moon! Eternity woke from its slumber. All day turned black and night came. The deeper I was swallowed, the more was still. A descent into Maelstrom. A descent into Maelstrom. Just how I could escape, to this day I know not. My brig was torn to shreds and so the fisher’s lot! In my deep despair I jumped into its eye. It chewed me through and spit me out, and so I found my way up high! Flashing lights, crushing sea! Thunder and storm came unto me. Blackened clouds and copper moon! Eternity woke from its slumber. All day turned black and night came. The deeper I was swallowed, the more was still. A descent into Maelstrom. A descent into Maelstrom.

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025

Night, silent night, snow on the roof. My breath turned to ice, my mind was aloof. Cold winter moon, shone through the reed. Glistening frost, what night for my deed! Onward and onward, away from the light, to the lake by the grove, to the beautiful white. Ah, what innocence, the nature of grace. But there shall be blood, I would mire this place! White turned to red, as I tore them apart. I dined with the swans, I drank from their hearts. Their fevering cries dulled with a crack. I broke all their spines, I drank from their neck. As I came back to myself, I heard not one sound. Feathers fell like snow unto cold sparkling ground. I divided from remorse in this night of great chill, and vanished to darkness, it was time for a kill. White turned to red, as I tore them apart. I dined with the swans, I drank from their hearts. Their fevering cries dulled with a crack. I broke all their spines, I drank from their neck.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

Up on the hill, in pictoresque light, lies peaceful still, a burial site. The gateway creaks, I scare myself. Some doubtful peeks, the clock strikes twelve. Ancient ground and mossy rocks. A smell unsound, the grave unlocks. Oldest sin, palest skin. Ageless grin, death! Ruthless lust without disgust. Dirt and dust, a romance with the grave. A romance with the grave! The fog lies thick and moon does rise. Her antique chique glares in my eyes. A first shy kiss and silent moans. In the abyss, the coffin groans. In close embrace, desire’s deep. And for her grace, in joy I weep. Oldest sin, palest skin. Ageless grin, death! Ruthless lust without disgust. Dirt and dust, a romance with the grave. A romance with the grave! Ruthless lust without disgust. Dirt and dust, a romance with the grave. A romance with the grave!

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 26, 2025

A cheering light I’ve never seen. My days are bleak, sans the serene. These ancient walls I never left. From balming sleep I’ve been bereft. Solitude has always been my lot, cobwebs and shadows, rats and old toads. How long I dwell in here I soon forgot. In smell of ages gone and putrid moats. There is bitter comfort in my days that have no sun. Through ruins of decay I haunt, I am the Eidolon. I linger on old graves, I exist unseen. The outcast and the wretched spawn, I am the unclean. For in one night I touched the cold, and polished glass thus had insight. A fiendish ghoul of gruesome shape and view, stared at me in fright and awe. But once I took a closer look I knew, the dreadful horror, myself I saw. There is bitter comfort in my days that have no sun. Through ruins of decay I haunt, I am the Eidolon. I linger on old graves, I exist unseen. The outcast and the wretched spawn, I am the unclean. I feast upon the beauty of things that others shun. In netherworlds and crypts I dwell, I am the alien one. I wallow in the old world, in things that they condemn. Through solitude and shadow, the outsider I am. Through solitude and shadow, the outsider I am.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025

In the steaming morass Of a newborn Earth Lies the formless mass Which to all gave birth In a sea of sludge Of immense extend Lies the thoughtless mass Which is source and end We all must follow Into her void To her fetid womb We all return Her voiceless howl Resounds through time From primal mud And fenses foul A limbless thing Mindless and coarse This wretches guise Is end and source We all must follow Into her void To her fetid womb We all return Fall through the aeons Onward to the Earth in its prime Fall through the aeons Becoming the spawn Of the great old slime

Submitted by Warbringer — Feb 07, 2026

A pure and lovely child, sweet beyond deny. It crept into its soul one night, unseen by human eye. Lucifer, Azazel, Belial, Seth! The devil has many names Ancient alp, adversary, come forth and reveal. Thy nature thou must proclaim. Lord of all winds, fever and plague. Thy will be done, thy will be done. Bringer of havoc, fiend of old date. Thy will be done, thy will be done. By God and the heavens, let loose from this soul. The name of the father and lore we extol. Lucifer, Azazel, Belial, Seth! The devil has many names Ancient alp, adversary, come forth and reveal. Thy nature thou must proclaim. Lord of all winds, fever and plague. Thy will be done, thy will be done. Bringer of havoc, fiend of old date. Thy will be done, thy will be done. By god and the heavens, let loose from this soul. The name of the father and lore we extol. Lord of all heavens, deliver from Hell. Thy will undone, thy will undone. To the power of Christ thou must compel. Thy will undone, thy will undone. Lord of all winds, fever and plague. Bringer of havoc, fiend of old date. Thy will is done!

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 26, 2025

A painter I have been, for as long as I can think. But never quenched the feather into the firkin of black ink. My motif’s been of beauty, diluted and too light. My stroke of brush is worthless until I paint the black of night. A darkened empty room, a screen in dreadful white. Waiting for the flame of inspiration to ignite. So I begin my work, I sweep the brush through black. A line of the horizon, now there is no coming back. But to my great excitement, like in a secret rite, with trembling hand I paint and fill the cloth with night. Deeper and deeper I fall into trance. I am led by a sorcerous hand. With death in my eyes and madness at heart, grandeur is cast into art. Of the shadow, of the sin and death therein. And darkness fills my sky! Of the brave and seldom kin is he who paints the night. By a magick arrangement and the assistance of fate, stroke by stroke I descend into the abyss I create. Deeper and deeper I fall into trance. I am led by a sorcerous hand. With death in my eyes and madness at heart, grandeur is cast into art. Of the shadow, of the sin and death therein. And darkness fills my sky! Of the brave and seldom kin is he who paints the night. From that secret fountain, henceforth I will be fed. Never shall I leave its haunt until the day I hail the dead. I vomit on your junk and piss on your false skill. You will never understand the glory of good and ill. Shadow, darkness, death and sin, hold off from this pack. You will never be complete until you paint the night in black.

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025