=Citadel=

O'er Arcor hangs the Citadel,
Wraith of ancient or alien past.
Of its purpose, diverse theories abound,
But of its name, there's none but Citadel.

Six towers, symmetrical, inverted, jut,
Threatening to impale the very heart
Of Arcor, where still Lake Ederlee rests,
Reflecting, restoring the Citadel.

Six towers, adamantly bare, defy
The perditious decay of time and stretch
Down towards the water as if to grasp
The reflected Dome of the Citadel.

The crystalline Dome of the Citadel
Momentarily blinds all those whose gaze
Lingers lost, for within its fractalled haze
You'll find, infinite refractions of mind.

What lies beneath the Dome of the Citadel?
Some say a stairway to heaven, or hell,
If you'd dare descend those escherian stairs
Of some fey poet's imagination.

But I have sailed beneath the Citadel
And two memories haunt my mind;
The terror of falling from the Ederlee
And the whispering call of the Citadel.