Here I take a hand,
I lead it down past glass walls,
on a stone worn stair,
past women in grey shawls.

As a face looks in fear,
I squeeze more tightly now,
leading them further down,
past stenches and tastes afoul.

By pale figurines,
that watch our fluid step,
tracking every sway,
counting every story swept.

As we descend,
down into the dungeon,
down into the lightless shadows,
down away from friends,
down away from them,
into the depths,
where we can be alone,
in this lonely sept.