It called to me
From shores unseen

It spoke to me
Of sights wild and serene

It spoke my name
In a quiet breath

It promised me
No gentle death

It promised nothing
To ease pains I bore

From beyond a veil
Of an alien shore

When all is done
What shall be said

I, triumphant hero
Or dishonored dead?

Unknown Contemplations
by 4856 Macron Sadow

If things exist
Because we think of them
Than how does the Unknown exist?

Is it real, does it think?
Or does it not, until discovered?
Until it is fully Seen?

Does the emptiness of Dark Matter
Only come into being when we think upon it?
Or does it remain unseen, hidden, and yet potent?

If naming a thing gives it existence
And those who died long ago remain known
As their names are found in hoary ruins

Do those whose names have been lost to the ages remain?

Yet again, the Unknown is often that which we choose not to see.
That which is Seen, can be difficult to Unsee.
That which is Known, can hardly be Unknown.

Ironic.
The true Unknown only exists when it becomes the Known.

Around, all around, the shadows gather.
My dread grows as the stroke of death falls against my naked soul.
It mutilates me, and my blood drips.
To the wicked earth, that is my prison.
In pain, I flee.
While Death's shadow approaches.
Now alone, my cry of mercy falls upon dead eyes.

This is death.

Darkblade was jumping up and down
for suddenly he had seen something
that looked a little reddish and brown
he just hoped it wasn't *that* dumb thing

The Unknown lurched into view
Darkblade screamed like a little girl
Then he heard laughing and realized it was all a rue
The Knight cursed and his head began to swirl

Darkness consumed his mind and ate his soul
The Unkown had tricked Darkblade into letting his defenses down
Now he was taken over and lost all control
And the tortured moans of the Knight could be heard throughout the town

For this competition, I have composed a haiku.

Shadows hide At night
Creating giant monsters
That are real or not

A dark foreboding
Something the eye cannot see
Lurks waiting to strike

Drip, drip, drip
Comes a strange noise

An unearthly sound screeches through the dark caverns
While the air around you freezes
Your heart cannot deny its fear

Struggling to fight from fainting
You think of pleasant thoughts
Thoughts that roam from this barren planet

Crunch, crunch, crunch
Another scream from a fellow soldier
Reminds you that you cannot escape this torture

What is this thing!
This creature bent on snatching up your friends
But still as though the tense hours linger on
Your fear inside grows
This fear of the unknown

Nothingness everywhere, cold and void.
A step, a fall, a movement, an injury.
Darkness pervasive, omnipresent danger.
To move is death, gripped tightly in my heart.
In the end I move, and there is light.