the dark is all she ever knew, or all that she remembers,
no shining sun or moonlit night or fires warming embers.
the dark, impenetrable and cold, her carefully measured home,
every inch and scrap of straw a single well-read tome.
the decades and the centuries have passed in endless ebony,
the creaks and shifts of stone and earth a single lonely symphony.
beneath the stone, beneath the ground, beneath the weight of time,
she wonders who and what and where, how horrible the crime,
and whose the hand that placed the seal, and whose eternal enmity,
condemned her to this sea of black, alone with neither lock nor key.