Silence. Cold thoughts.
The procession of phantoms in a dark world of dreams.
I am summoning memories, trying to reflect,
seeking understanding in the vapors and steams.

The cauldron boils and demons writhe --
everything readies to pierce through the veil.
My thinking submits to the mysteries of old;
my consciousness cracks -- I am beyond the pale.

Too late for memories of the world and its woes;
too late for hope and the sadness it knows.
The spell is unleashed and the time is at hand:
now witness the power I have at command!

Choice at my left hand, Fate to my right;
I look at them both
  and see the mysteries of night...