“The fog of night is dense and deep.
If thou set forth there is no sleep,
no sun, no calm, just endless dread.
Art thou steadfast in going ahead?”

I nodded.

“The frights, the sights are foul and vile,
The ghouls, the ghosts, the wretch, the bile.
No peace, no rest,” the creature said,
“Art thou steadfast in going ahead?”

I nodded.

“The blackest deeds of men will show,
The aches, the ails, the endless woe.”
The thing before me raised its head,
“Art thou steadfast in going ahead?”

I nodded.

“The truths thou seek are mighty bleak,
the dust of ages past’ll speak,
and slay thy myths alive and dead.
“Art thou steadfast in going ahead?”

I nodded.

“The very words thou yearn to wake,
will burn thou like a fiery stake.
The creature leaned close and pled,
“I think it best, thou turned and fled.”

“No.”

At once, it gruffed a gruesome growl,
“Thou fool, thou fool!” it pulled my cowl.
“The ones before thou lie ahead,
as brave, as bold, now cold and dead.”

“Thou take this path with heart and mind,
but mind thy heart on what thou find.”
Its eyes then glew a flaming red,
“Art thou steadfast in going ahead?”

“Yes.”

“Then go!” it said and moved aside,
I took a breath and rode astride,
And as I sped towards the pry,
I caught the creature crowly cry–

“The tales, indeed, are cold and ‘arsh,
not fit for men back in the marsh.
For if thou share in part or whole,
the eyes that stare will pierce thy soul.”