Through subterranean labyrinths of catacombs
We hath crawled to gather in this dimly lit
Hall of colossal proportion
Which few ever see
Along black walls
Rise tier after tier of carven painted sarcophagi
Each standing in a niche in the stone
The mounted tiers rising up
To be lost in the gloom above
Thousands of carven masks
Stare down upon us
We who are rendered futile and insignificant
By this vast array of the dead