Scorpio's Pitch - A poem about letting a world grow

Tectonic mechanics flow across my screen
as the mountains shift form, rising
into imaginary clouds and virtual heights
each peak still undefined to the eye
but casting shadows through my mind
as the world expands once more
allowing new places to speak of softly
over a campfire or sitting amid books
as my fingers dance the patterns
that only words and worlds can make
coming out of my imagination
to be shared someday, perhaps soon
with any who care to read
what I might jot down.

Details drift around the images
cutting the fog apart at times
and other moments adding confusion
making me doubt the instant
for this creation has come about
even as the Shadowed Continent
heaves itself out of the Abyss
to take its place at last
on the maps with more than
comments about who lives where
or dangers abound all around
like that silly rhyme there
until Kvaeg forms some where unanticipated.

This is the land of the Scorpion
where the beasts are deadly
the plants thick amid long shadows
of mountains that cradle vast plains
between their ridges and peaks
casting long shadows into jungles
over savannahs or across broken lands
where in every crevice and crack
something moves to take your soul
life or just a taste of flesh
sending out its hunters to slay
any that they can find, indiscriminately
until the totem beast seeks
vengeance with its own hunter.

Now Dhibt appears, still shadowed
telling me that the rivalry known
is the one this tale will expose
between two states and beliefs
that cannot be more opposed
not just in power and land,
but in the eternal war for souls
that good and evil always wage
where those least concerned by them
can afford them to be fighting
on the croplands of Ganzer and Ar'ulla
across the line of rotation's bulge
in the lands of Kita'mesh
where the Saplathulu must die.