A moment in time that had become frozen,

Starlight averts its gaze leaving Gilgamesh an orphan.

As he chose the dimming starlight,

The silver mirror turned a hue of scarlet,

It convoluted into a bizarre sight,

As Gilgamesh landed on a hay's carpet.

Into the land unknown,

Now our hero is alone.

Fell from the void cursed by Thanes,

He now rests on a stack of hay.

His eyes squint from the light of day,

Below which is ground made of clay.

He gets up from the silage flummoxed,

Only to find himself in an place unorthodox.

This wasn't his kingdom of Urku, nor was this the land of Mesopotamia. 

This wasn't the plane of the land he resided in, this was a land of dystopia.

“What is this place I have landed in,

It doesn't appear to be from the part of Will,

If this were the realm of mongrels,

The land would have been seeded in these fertile pastures.

The water would have flowed in a hue of blue,

Reflecting the sky far and anew.

But the water here is a hue of yellow, the sky purple and the Earth blue.”

The strange land even caused Gilgamesh to ponder, 

Whether he was still sane and breathing the ether. 

It couldn't have been just another one of his dreams,

For when he experiences them he is completely free.

It seemed like the strange land had been subjected to clearance,

Yet there were still a few patches of barren trees at a distance.

The world around him made him obnoxious,

Seeping deep scares into his subconscious.

The blue planes of the land, purple skies, and yellow water all made his vision falter.

Irritated by the view of diminishing light,

He sought escape from this unnerving sight.

He walked towards what seemed like a meadow,

Situated below the land he endowed,

Endowed the opportunity and honour,

Of him walking over.

The thirst for water and answer pushed him,

He was on his last foot before grim.

The void had sucked far too much of his energy,

Now he wished for a restful sanctuary.

Approached the meadow, approached a man,

With beard taller than his posture the owner of this pasture.

He greeted Gilgamesh as a strange man he saw,

Never before had the old man had seen such a Gaw,

His ragged appearance was off-putting,

Asked Gilgamesh the location of his origin.

But Gilgamesh was a king, not a mere mortal. How will he respond to a meadow' caterer?

The only people he considered worthy of his talk,

Were the ones he considered to be full of potential,

To provide him with pleasure. Otherwise, it was a mock.

Yet currently he was in the clutches of despair,

He had to ask and therefore talk if he wanted a repair.

“King of the land of Uruk, Gilgamesh is my name.

Sent here by the Fiends who refer to themselves as masters of the world to tame.

I was exposed to the light of the mighty Zephal,

Banished to the void, yet came back unharmed.

Unaware, of what has happened to this land,

Enlighten this King, I command you old-man!"

The man grinned,

He summoned a staff on a whim,

A whip of his limb,

A barrel filled to the brim,

Strange fluid neither liquid nor gas,

It was the flow of thoughts, all mortal has,

The fluid flowed towards the rim,

Never to escape but always to skim.

The rarer swill sinks,

While the denser slop returns to the rim,

Only to eternally skim.

“What is the meaning of this transgression?

Why are you showing me fruitless tricks and renditions?

Had I asked you to entertain,

I would have been pleased by this show of barrel game,

But I ask you seriously,

Why is this place furiously?"

The man grinned,

He sat on his shins,

“Morning and Evening (sun),

Venus is also the star of night.

Your choice was day, yet you defied fate.

But you are yet to prove your might.

Without which you will lose sight.

So bring demise to the Starving Gods, and I will guide,

If through your rage you leave me agape,

A way to escape, I will arrange.

But even before that, remember you need to learn to trust,

Put faith in others and help them through the rust,

For this world is cruel and not meant for one,

If navigated alone, will only ruin the fun."

He took from the barrel a handful of mist,

Spread it across his meadow with fist.

Flowers of unimaginable colours bloomed,

Amongst them was a lavender groomed.

It had an aura, a scent, a perfume.

It enticed the land, incited pursuit.

The strange man and his strange words didn't make sense,

Gilgamesh thought his actions were amess.

Tried to reason with the man, but he failed.

Wished to raise his hand against the man,

But alas he couldn't for reasons he can't understand.

He felt heavy in his mind manifesting,

Saning his legs, saning his heart, saning his abilities.

The mist must have been the reason for this,

It created a sound, a weird hiss.

Unable to conquer, Gilgamesh slept.

Unable to answer, conquest kept.

“Who was the man Gilgamesh met?

An ally or foe? That hasn't been decided yet.

Now he wanders the realm of The Night of The Sun.

A prison of eternal torment for God's; there is no way to run.

The Starving Gods are now enraged.

Seeing someone break into their cage."