He wakes to find his spirit bound
to a broken glass in rooms of ether;
everywhere, the lost and found,
old memories of once golden chapters.
Here lies the work of his hands,
the right, it slew while the left lay hidden.
Fingers glazed with pillaged lands,
eyes set agaze at new dominions.
And lo, before him, descending down
from blackened skies to break his kingdom;
the One who fears no royal crown,
nor pharisees of utmost wisdom.
No bosom is there to break his touch,
his oath is fact in all religions.
No hoard of gold would do so much
as to nudge his cloak before it's smitten.
As he lands another land
falls to siege under a king's decision.
Whilst martyrs fight on bloody sands,
the young, they flee with no direction.
A woman torn by the hands of man;
such spoils of war are misconceptions.
Drawn away through tyrant plans
of what was once a holy mission.
Death dismounts his midnight steed
as stars align with tensions risen.
His blade begs life to pay it's heed;
an omen bound in a sharpened prison.
The leaves, they fall to dust nearby
as dwellings creak in humiliation.
Within his field, there breathes no life;
en-route to one who shall be stricken.