The Underworld

Down so far beneath her steps
Is the unknown Underworld
Like a man to ocean hurled
Like a great dragon curled

The dwarves toiling always
The steam tunnellers go all days
Their torches lighting some of it
Other parts without a slit

Dark thoughts of dark elves in black
Of strange cities there is no lack
Dim places of goblins and gnomes
Many wary, savvy homes

In one such town King Bing resides
Waiting like a beach for tides
An army of men chased a mage
Faced the Underworld’s rage

Some were killed by the huge moles
Some slipped into black holes
Some got lost and some went mad
Four thousand misled souls

The pitch black beauty Quoa lives there
An oasis from despair
Naked, elusive and curious
A diamond in her hair