The Archon's Atrophy.Sonnet 04

The tapestry of the Archon’s creation thickens as he descends from the celestial heights to the physical ruins of the first world, seeking the "Grammar of Golem and Ghost.

The Lithic Litany of Lost Loam

Upon the pediments of pulverized quartz,The Archon treads with heavy, hallowed gait,To summon spirits from the sunken courts,And wrest the keys from iron hands of fate.The petrichor of ages fills the lungs,Of statues carved from calcified despair,Who speak in clicking, carbon-dated tongues,And breathe the thin and suffocating air.He gathers up the shards of shattered clay,The ochre dust of empires long deceased,To forge a vessel for the dawning day,And wake the beauty of the dormant beast.From geological deeps, the whispers rise,To mirror back the starlight in his eyes.