Out of the night and past the white on into the thin.
Past the Pale Lady and dive right through the stars.
Deeper still and farther you go, forward/down into the pitch.
The twinkling, gleaming Things twist around you and coil like rattlesnakes in the Mojave.
Unthinking, unseeing, Creatures not Created.
Disconnected, unfeeling, abominable with depth.
Far down into the lap of Chaos, the voids of Shagganauk and the doors of Ph'del.

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