Algol s Gardens

So monstrous, grand, and full of dread
The silent rows of all the dead
They stand forever, cold and blank
Their extinguished gaze into the void has sank

What do they see, what is their thought?
What darkened dreams have they been brought?
What kind of moons in skies do gleam?
What songs of darkness do they stream?

What sways them with a mournful sigh
Like a flower when the wind goes by?
Like flames trapped in a mirrored dome
Inside a crystal night-bound home

What heavy passion keeps their grace?
This quiet, indifferent, hollow face?
What slowly breathes into their mind
The majesty that time designed?

In twisted poses, frozen tight
Like savage beasts within the night
The vines of darkness wrap them deep
To birth mad dreams inside their sleep

What metaphors are told, in space
By hands and bodies locked in place?
Hysterical and frozen forms
Contorted in forgotten storms

They stand like statues, carved and grand
Created by a wizard's hand
A stone-cold crowd, forever boundIn
Algol’s gardens, underground...