thunder cracks and rain pours down,
dancing across and ancient ground,
the howling wind,a deafening sound,
a far away alter on hollowed ground,

deep in a crypt in a dimming light,
sets alone a man as he stares in the night,
his hands are skin and bone,a withering sight,
his long-flowing beard of gray and white,

a hint of a smile,he smiles to himself,
he opens a book after he has knelt.
he sprinkles some powder from a pouch from his belt
a puff of smoke and and warmth in the air is felt,

he wrings his hands and speaks a language unknown,
reciting words from an ancient tome,
across the pages his finger will roam,
the words on the page spark with the wind-blow,

the words on the page begin to birghtly glow,
he rocks back and forth and to and fro,
he sees his breath as the rain turns to snow,
the shaking ground rattles the tombs below,

he waves his hands and the lightening cracks,
and cold chills run along his back,
he grabs his sleeves and rolls up the slack,
he pulls a glass ball out of his sack,

he places the ball in the center of the book,
wails come from the graves and tombs that was shook,
he sprinkles more powder from the pouch the took,
deep in the glass ball, he begins to look,

he mumbles more words of the language unknown,
slowly the orb starts to rise and glow,
the glow gets brighter very slow,
and then more powder he begins to throw,

all around the ball smoke and lightening dances,
moving to the words,these necromances,
around the ball his hand dances,
with each movement the power enhances,

"tell me your secrets" the old man screams,
his cerimonial robe flaps at the seems,
the ball trans forms into a shimmering sheen,
he looks into this crystal dream,

"show me what the futrure holds"
"show me things that are yet foretold"
he watches as his vision unfolds,
he sees days of new and days of old,

he sees wars that ravage acroos the land,
frightened people holding hands,
brave warriors taking a stand,
washed away in the blowing sand,

his withered hand wipes away a tear,
he saw too much as he had feared,
these images in his mind are seared,
the ugly sights that has reared,

a flash of light and the orb floats down,
silent are the wails under the ground,
he bows his head with a dismal frown,
staring donw at the frozen ground,

weakly he rises from bended knee,
tormented by the horrors he'd seen,
the bellowing tempest is now serene,
flashing back on those grizzly scenes,

he falls in a chair,overwhelm with strain,
his body fatigued and riddled with pain,
"these sight i see,its crazy,insane,"
he lifts up his head and again hears rain,

he looks at the decrepid walls in dismay,
there is nothing left that he can say,
all he can do is hope and pray,
that the sights he saw wont be in his day.