The Cthulhu

The monster sleeps,
Waiting to be waken,
Stirred,
Summoned by it’s followers.

A beast of great power,
A mouth of tentacles,
A body of monstrous size,
Ebony wings that seemed to flow endlessly.

He is an unspeakable thing,
For There is no language to describe him,
He contradicts all that is believed,
All cosmic order.

He lay in the nightmarish city of R’lyeh,
A poison city of madness,
Where mountains and plains are indistinguishable,
For it is made of no human architecture.

He sleeps silently in his great city,
Waiting to be released.

His priests and followers will forever slave to awaken him,
Dance around idol-capped monoliths,
And pray for their master’s release.

The Cthulhu is a thing of inexplicable  origin,
Incalculable age,
And power beyond the stars.

Never will we know his purpose,
But it is certain that the Cthulhu will end our time.