Deeper in the heart, where shadows dance,
Stands a cross of skulls, in solemn trance.
An endless sea of bones lies in wait,
A "Crucible of Remembrance" at death's gate.
The cross, a solemn sentinel amidst the tide,
A quiet guard in the catacomb's dark stride.
Each skull, a face, each bone, a tale,
Silent they stand, in the dark pale.
A mosaic of mortality, a hushed plea,
A reminder of what was, and what will be.