They came from a wasteland slow and lumbering.
Like the waves.
With... the waves.
A shadow against mountains against fog.
A nightmare framed with lightning it pressed on.
We sat on the edge of the cliff, curious, oblivious, a hint of madness.
It was a planet and we were ants, it was the moon and we,
the sea, we couldn't see, over blind curiosity.
Caught in the landslide we could only hold on,
Waiting till the low rumble of disaster left us.
Their bodies echoed thin silk,the ripples of their clothing visible if for a second (was that clothing?)
We saw horrors in the sheets covering these beasts, screaming faces or monsters pressing against a shadow.
Like a hand on frosted glass.
The rolling waves stopped at the shore,
Face to face with Insanity we stood,
A mask of pure white smiling ear to ear holding a head of pure black.
They began to kneel, scraping their clawed feet against the sand,
The aching of the trees in the wind.
We began to understand those silken shadows.