Crimson air
The setting Sun hides the horizon
And the deep blue beckons
Into its uncharted waters

We venture on a downward descent
Not by choice; but coerced by power
With little equipment to keep at bay
What monsters lay hidden in the depths

An inexplicable paranoia grips our minds
A lurking aqueous presence
Not a fear of the unknown
But a vivid description of death
In all its gloriful torment

Then we see out of the little glass pane
A moving mountain
A colossal horror staring back
Into eyes of fear and mania

So far removed from God
Yet just as powerful in persuasion
Such that to sacrifice others to it
Is not any more a conflict of morality
In stance of the greater good

And so I stare in fixed compulsion
Too far gone
Overcome by whatever void
That foul thing slithered out of