Muse of March contest

On a Sunday evening when all was old
I took a trek down the caves of the Irvings
There I found darkness being sold
It was like a mime among talking kings

My steps were ordered by icy prints
It was all so cold but my feet were sweating
How did I get to live in this death streets?
What spell kissed me with these beatings?

Luck decided to lure me to her oxygen
But nothing came free; it was a give and take
The fainting tree breathing to me it's gene
While I fearfully gave her my carbon cake

The knights of the nights then came up
Of course every territory has it's king
They were roaring loudly; their hunger had certainly topped
So it was left for Daniel to prove to Nebuchadnezzar that I wasn't him neither was I his kin

Luck shone again and the lions allowed me leap into the dark
With every step breathing more darkness
This was the end; run deep and keep track or just go back
But hope kept calling me to faith's madness

When all seemed not to have an end
Luck spoke again
This time her words pleased the trend
I was awoken in safety; I was saved from the drowning rain