When the moonlight ignites the crystal dew like the stars above, and the horizons dark with day's absence; when tendril shadows creep between the trees, and silence envelops rustling leaves; the frigid night becomes more than it was, and reality becomes what never was.

In such enticing solitudes new minds react with desires beyond that of the most instinctual need. To let tears stir the stars, to let blood blend with the earth, and to let the silence ring with joyous clarity. Yet amid the ecstasy of fantasy creep the horrors of reality, tendrils which gouge the flesh, shred the veins, and consume all hope of sanity.

The starry scape smears like coloured sand, becoming ethereal rifts amid the dew strewn world, gates to unseen skies, beyond the conceptual norms. To open one's eyes to such a scene would addle all knowledge and awaken divine imagining. Yet such divinity awakens unmade beings, from our dreams and thoughts these things emerge, ever-changing and immortal, they exist only in unseen worlds.

Perception faulters with reality's decline, and the phantasms of astral visages engorge the mind. Sanity shatters in the clutches of madness and absconds from reason's embrace.

From the lands beyond step the spectres of mind, to enrapture last sanity and reclaim their lost vanity.