Basalt remembers the weight of moons.
Kelp crowns drift from one throne to another.
The gates of R’lyeh lean inward, listening.
Thal’gorath — a lantern in the marrow —
breathes green into the pressure,
folds the trench into a single syllable.
Chor’vess intones in the cartilage of the sea,
its pitch a corridor without walls,
its whistle a tide that forgets the shore.
Nyxthid writes in phosphor,
letters unmoored from their alphabet,
rising like bubbles that refuse to burst.
Somewhere above, the surface
is only a rumour of light.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 16th, 2025 06:30
- Comment from author about the poem: Rare lining up for the seasonal poem. Why not? 🙏🏻🕊️🍂🍁
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
Lovecraft, world of warfare, magic what a mix my friend. Beautifully crafted it smells of the sea. Nicely done
It’s good that the mix had come together, thank you so much Soren 🙏🏻🕊️
Most welcome my friend
That rumour of light is only a rumour Rik as light will always be there for us all.
Andy
Thank you, Andy🙏🏻🕊️
My friend, this one breathes from the deep…myth and marrow intertwined. “Letters unmoored from their alphabet”...that line alone carries the whole ocean. You’ve written something primordial here. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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