here is a poem done by a great Artist like Criss called ( Dreamland) hope u enjoy it

By a route obscure and lonely,

        Haunted by ill angels only,
        Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
        On a black throne reigns upright,
        I have reached these lands but newly
        From an ultimate dim Thule-
        From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,
           Out of SPACE- out of TIME.

        Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
        And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
        With forms that no man can discover
        For the tears that drip all over;
        Mountains toppling evermore
        Into seas without a shore;
        Seas that restlessly aspire,
        Surging, unto skies of fire;
        Lakes that endlessly outspread
        Their lone waters- lone and dead,-
        Their still waters- still and chilly
        With the snows of the lolling lily.

        By the lakes that thus outspread
        Their lone waters, lone and dead,-
        Their sad waters, sad and chilly
        With the snows of the lolling lily,-
        By the mountains- near the river
        Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-
        By the grey woods,- by the swamp
        Where the toad and the newt encamp-
        By the dismal tarns and pools
           Where dwell the Ghouls,-
        By each spot the most unholy-
        In each nook most melancholy-
        There the traveller meets aghast
        Sheeted Memories of the Past-
        Shrouded forms that start and sigh
        As they pass the wanderer by-
        White-robed forms of friends long given,
        In agony, to the Earth-  and Heaven.

        For the heart whose woes are legion
        'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-
        For the spirit that walks in shadow
        'Tis- oh, 'tis an Eldorado!
        But the traveller, travelling through it,
        May not- dare not openly view it!
        Never its mysteries are exposed
        To the weak human eye unclosed;
        So wills its King, who hath forbid
        The uplifting of the fringed lid;
        And thus the sad Soul that here passes
        Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

        By a route obscure and lonely,
        Haunted by ill angels only,
        Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
        On a black throne reigns upright,
        I have wandered home but newly
        From this ultimate dim Thule.