Reading over a few scraps from years ago I stumbled across this poem. I realise now that this poem must have been an early prototype for the ideas behind Tenebrae Manor. This was a dream I had that was so vivid it became what you see below. The best ideas come in sleep, a place where anything can come from nothing.
Inside and under these dark canopies
No light can hope to penetrate.
The air is dry and the call of crows
Echoes through sombre shadowed leaves.
My boots disrupt with a crunching sound
The pine needles long since fallen.
The emaciated branches reach forth
For a reply that will never be found.
Staggering blindly, the air is hot.
Could I hope for a fire to pierce the dark?
One could tell that the sun shone somewhere,
But its warmth on my face I’ve long since forgot.
A being has taken up residence here
In an old and elegant house.
But shattered windows and doors left ajar,
Long abandoned it is, I must fear.
Can I hope to escape the eternal night?
With silence so loud
And darkness so bleak
In the trees that have exiled light?