Dark, Cold and Wet lives down where Light couldn't reach. Limestone reigns all over the walls, With Stalactite crowns, in Stalagmite thrones. Here, Columns hold up arches that lead Eventually to a Dead End or that rare Light.
Crude markings decorate Palace ramparts Of a Hunter in mid-hunt running away from the game, Darting behind sharp rocks and scattered bones That have turned into Shadows with a thousand eyes Looking and searching for a way out.
Moments flow and stop, measured in a broken timeline Drawn by incapacitated limbs and ailing minds. But Time drags out evidence with preserved Skulls Kept with gemstones and diamonds dipped in Red Sand That blinds.