Before your long descent you bathe
In waters drawn from Acheron.
You feast and light the fires of death.
The shadows start to move and speak.
The first few steps into the dark
Will take you from the world you know.
These final minutes of your life
Will shred all sense of what is real.
The dampness of the walls and air
Has soaked your naked, puckered skin.
The deeper in the maze you move
The louder come the shadow’s taunts.
You stagger in your final room,
And here – where echoes cease – you see.