"Deep down below the hollow echoes of musty damp breath, and misty song air. Shattered, wishing stones tossed beyond the black and howling scare, Lie the reaping sounds of clanking, jingles of tattered threads sewing, filling sandbags of time. Very little seen, very little showing, Sowed seeds planted within a captive nativity shell, Ready for the harvest, the Gothies dwell…"