Ter'ah'nee

Ursula, Guardian of Inter-Dimensional Travelers

Place your hand upon the page
And travel to a mystic's age,
With sleepers who will soon awaken
Only to find their souls are taken;
Trapped in books unlike no other,
Not one, of all the crowd, the bother;
For people who will live like beasts
Are doomed to starve before the feast.
And Kings, though reign, shall wear no crown,
And have no thrones, but shall look down
To meadows where the silent cry,
While all around them spirits fly
Through the misty void that covers the land,
As it sinks into the plaguing sand.
And the dying, through fallen worlds, shall send
A single message, "it is the end."

Copyright 2001 Caitlin Carlson