The Necromancer

From whence the water flows
Chaotic dreams bring endless woes,
Whilst clouds form a darkened gray,
Overcasting the gaiety of day.

The dimmed, unnatural, light
Renders the appearance of night.
A storm races toward the shore;
For sanctuary, none can implore.

A shadowy tower stands alone,
It's battlements like broken bone,
Aloof and foreboding in it's decay
Appears an odious place to stray.

For none hither from there do go,
But the wretched beasts of ancient woe
Whose station in life is beset
Upon the carrion left desolate.

Lifeless it stands perched on high,
Its presence seems ever too nigh.
Wanton malevolence now emanates
Forth from the tower's foreboding gates.

From yonder way it can be seen,
A light so rank, with horrid gleam.
Still within it's decrepit walls,
A devil walks those cursed halls.

A necromancer, a daemon be he;
He conjures up his ghastly plea.
Tormented spirits of years gone past,
Fill their shells to the very last.

"Arise, from thy earthen sleep,"
Cries the sorcerer within his keep.
"Arise, Old Ones! Harken ye all,
To the design of my exigent call!"

From beneath the earth, all around,
Re-animating with a hideous sound,
Ascends a legion of cadaverous coils
Most dedicated to their evil moil.

"Awaken to your master's delight,
Lumber toward humanity's plight."
The aged villain, arms in the air,
Spouts incantation, his malice bare.

The army begins its march of death,
Corrupting the air with odorous breath.
The ghouls lumbering in rotten shells,
Bring forth to the earth an unearthly hell.