In tentacled dreams I flee the danger
That oozes through fissures in time and space,
I can trust no friend or unknown stranger
For who knows the evil behind a face?
The world is changing, a grand deception,
Disbelieved by men proclaimed as wise
Only those with uncanny perception
Can pierce the Old One's malignant disguise.
Gathering storm clouds, portending a doom
Are noticed by some, a handful at best.
I'm but a recluse, I hide in my room,
Needing to sleep but unable to rest.
Tentacled dreams sent by one 'neath the sea,
Have loosened my grip on sweet sanity.
© 1999 Edward P. Berglund
"Tentacled Dreams": © 1999 Ron Shiflet. All rights reserved.
Graphic © 1999 Erebus Graphic Design. All rights reserved. Email to: James V. Kracht.
Created: March 12, 1999; Updated: August 9, 2004