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The Unmaking

I am the end of all stories... The final, silent chord... I dream of a world unmade... A thousand maws, my word... A single note, a blade so sharp... Walks through my dark domain... I send a nightmare, a mental shard... But it meets wall, not pain... The whispers recoil, a foreign sheen... A fortress, polished, cold... A mind I cannot break, unseen... A story to be told... (You bring the forge light, not the dawn...) (A song of judgment, steel reborn...) (I taste the order, burn it clean...) (An ending for the God unseen...) (A wall of light, a fortress mind...) (An ending for a God of mine...) The chamber weeps, the stones they bleed... The dragon screams in vain... He walks on, fulfilling need... Through sorrow and through pain... I project the thought, a force of will... To pulp the brain of lesser things... But he just stands, unnerving still... A silence that my terror brings... (You bring the forge light, not the dawn...) (A song of judgment, steel reborn...) (I taste the order, burn it clean...) (An ending for the God unseen...) (A wall of light, a fortress mind...) (An ending for a God of mine...) The fear... a strange new insect... A tremor in the song... I am the end... I am the end... Then why is this so wrong? He opens himself... a vortex... Colors bleed to grey... He draws on what... un-makes us... And sends my doom this way... He reaches out a single hand... The world begins to fray... Reality... it starts to bend... And cancels out the day... A spear of white... it starts to form... A singularity... It does not grow... it just performs... An act of purity... It is the promise of a page... That never will be turned... A god's own terror, set in sage... A lesson I have learned... The spear extends... a perfect line... I see my end in thee... The Old One... no longer divine... For all eternity...