A Temple.

There exists a temple.


Banished beyond elemental plains,
Seven vaulted chambers of dragon-plate,
Chain-locked coils like riveted reigns,
And triple-thick walls of obsidian slate.


Where behemoths are ripped asunder by Might,
Eons of crusted, sedimentary rock,
The sorceress thrives by the sleight of her mind,
And the assassin ticks like the strike of a clock.


Sunken 'neath shadows; a voyagers fate,
Steadily buried by the dust of time.
A balance of purity, in sync with hate,
And from where he stood, the voices were fine.


Boundaries crossed in a hologram of light,
And all the minions, deflected by spells,
Eldritch wizardry and infinite sight,
A brimming white crest, the ocean swells.


Awash with neon, a glow you can feel,
Living colours blending and weaving so well,
Warm fluorescence, like liquid red steel,
Broken reticence brings freedom to dwell.


Doors unlocked and fantasies wrought,
In a sequence of passages, veiled in bloom,
A bouquet of pixels was what she sought,
But what she received was much more real.