What face belongs to darkness that veils
Horrid vices, perjury and more malice
Is it really death’s visage, an image
Riddled with the innocence of man
How soulfully this task is done
In the blistering rage of the sun
Or the waning moon’s night
Which of the divine angles guide?
This pilgrim through sin after sin
Even to endure the greater of seven
Which is pride
Blood less red and more dread
In the hallways of his crime
To what stairway is this man led?
At a time past his time
Does this face still lie hidden?
Within bereft souls angst ridden
The face of a less familiar felon
But of a man no less ordinary
Perhaps more woeful than those
At his grasp whom death chose not
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