Phantasm

Turning through the flesh-like pages of a weathered compendium, you finally arrive at the title you'd been searching for; a short sonnet located near the end of a larger anthology of written poetry recovered from the labyrinths of a sepulchral library, its ruined foundation built on a mound of ash. The tome is marred by ancient dust and what appear to be savage claw marks, but this particular work remains mostly intact. You can clearly make out its title and author.
PHANTASM
By Reyer Quixote
A plea for aid amidst the endless night
A phantasm roars against the heavens
Its chaotic dreams depicting its plight
Primal worlds ruled by its blithe, dark children
The darkest of which scarred this mortal host
His skin charcoal and cloaked in ancient dirt
Roaming his own green world like a lost ghost
Only the most clever of foes unhurt
Still the progenitor lies in silence
The insidious silence that consumes
Ends thousand-year reigns of savage tyrants
Seeks love and joy and instates deathly gloom
And yet, in bright, celestial glory
A stranger writes the end of the story
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