An Old Grimoire

An Old Grimoire

Leather bound, in silver etched
A goodly price it would have fetched
Illusions on the cover, a gothic script
But where is now this great things’ crypt?

Forgotten and alone it lies, but rest it can’t
These yellowed olden pages still hold a power scant
One day it shall be found, that is quite certain
One day some man will carry this addiction’s burden

Runes and glyphs – spells of ancient ages!
Now they reside only in these wrinkled pages
For the world they are, at present, lost
But once they are discovered, oh, we will pay the cost…

Its wrath will be great, thunder will boom
A cloud of broken lives upon a dark sky shall loom
Folk in terror, children and mothers in bitter tears
The men march to battle, against a foe that everyone fears

How can this fight be won? Hold you no hope
For even the brightest light with oldest darkness can’t cope
Tentacles of evil now writhe over this land
The gods are gone – with us they won’t stand

In the end, all life shall cease to exist
Shadows will rule, clouded in dark mist
Everything would die, everything would go
And still none at all of this peril know

But the time is not now, still far away
The dawn of this, last humanity’s day
I hope that no longer I will draw breath
When the old grimoire unleashes decay and death