In the wind of the mind rises the Turbulence called I   It breaks down, showers the barren thought   All life is shocked, this desert is the abyss   Wherein is the Universe   The stars are but thistles in that waste   yet this desert is but one spot accursed in the world of bliss   Now and again travellers cross the desert   They come from the Great Sea, and to the Great Sea they Go   One by one they walked into the Land beyond the Stars,   Following the secret Pathways into Creation unknown   Guided by the forbidden Grimoires of Necromancy   They heard the Call of Cthulthu, loudly roaming in the Sky,   nonesome trembling from below   Spectres arose before them,   terrible Offsprings looked at them with their darksome eyes of Death   Only the pure shall pass...   May He who Tresspasses the void within   and masters the Spellcraft of the Necronomicon   descend into the Netherworld in all his Glory...