Where the Stars Got Booked
From Fables’ deep, consuming dark,
A grand chamber left its chilling mark.
With shelves, high and wide,
Where the cosmos did hide,
As vast wisdom left senses stark.
Each star was a tale, bound and known,
On pages of light, softly shown.
The mind’s deepest fear,
Felt so terribly clear,
In a library carved out of stone.
From the ceiling, a vortex of white,
Poured nightmares disguised as pure light.
A presence, unseen,
A constructor, serene,
Held the world in its infinite might.
Then the truth, like a cold, silent hum,
Made the grand, cosmic irony come.
This vast, chilling space,
With no time, no true place,
Was a slumber from which none could roam.
The Runic Template 
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