The Labyrinth's Thunder
 

Curled tight, a spiral bound
In a score-and-one late womb
Hand vise-clenched around
A bread of life never consumed
And in the other, the shroud

All the night was wandered
Without desire for slumber
In the tens and even hundreds
The hours might have numbered
The labyrinth's thunder

Blue-garmented sandmen
They lay siege without a sound
It took them all, there were ten,
Just to lay the thunder down
She did not resist them

Morpheus sounded the herald-call
But she restively treaded a wrong turn
Ending in her perilous fall
And still she fought the nocturne
And the thunder still pealed

She now retires with the moon
With the ten in blue
Guiding her to the sloom
Where the temple lulls
In the score-and-one-late womb.