Poetry

Azathoth

Ancient Azathoth,

who dreams the shape of secret things,

his elaborations,

created,

while in sleep he lies.

All magicians, mendicants, and emperors alike,

dreamt.

His mental ink

lays out all reality,

from midnight rituals

to morning routines,

timed and played out in his mind,

but he’s not aware.

Shhh, we must float along,

all of us must float through time,

actors played upon his stage,

each of us fearing that

at the trumpet blast, he’ll wake,

and all life will shut down.

Thus, the tangled drama of the world shall melt.

                                                         ~Linda Imbler

                                                      Wichita, Kansas, USA

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