A Warning

Wrapped in a stormy, night-mad gale,

Within an inn for weary folk,

A strange old man told me a tale

About a book both dark and pale

Whose pages all were inked in smoke.

This text, he said, taught secret spells,

Of power over life and death.

“It lies across the ocean swells,

And where the pagan hunter yells

You’ll find it wrapped in angel’s breath.”

“This man is mad,” is what I thought,

But still considered it a while,

So when I had no other plot,

A ship bound for the south I caught,

Where I’d search for this savage isle.

My vessel sailed some sixty days,

Before I saw the promised land.

I went ashore and slipped away.

The misty air and forest maze

Concealed me from the pilgrim band.

For miles across the woods I look,

And still I cannot find a sign

Of any place, of any nook,

Of any hole that hides a book,

A book of black that will be mine.

But now I hear this savage place

Call out to me and curse my name.

That awful call, its boom and bass

Calls all dread hunters to the chase.

Now I’m the creature in their game.

The yells, the shouts, the haunting forms,

Are all too much, it was not worth

My life to brave these wicked storms

Brought by the faceless things in swarms,

All for a book beneath the earth.

Please hear my words, and hear with care.

In southern lands, where orchids bloom,

May lie a tome without compare.

I thought I would find glory there,

But all that I have found is doom.