As does Heaven look upon a fallen angel,

Summer cleanses the dirt of frost.

But a lack of redemption knits a guilty cloak,

Thus the ashaméd war is lost.

 

Archangels stifle their breath of lies,

And choose but an soul.

Inverting a life; bad is good,

The Earth grows once more cold.

 

Chargéd with turmoiled life,

Only mammon couldst disturb tomorrow.

From high above, billow God’s clouds,

Rain tumbles down in piercing drops of sorrow.

 

Dull as the purple thistle,

Hell’s victim approaches his king.

Granted upon willingess, so effortlessy taken is life

Pillars tumble as somber bells ring.

 

Punishéd are those who embrace suspicion,

A martyr, battered, plummets Hell-bound.

Three seers trance a traitor with their silver tongues,

A king with their crutch begs her not make a sound.

 

Frost grows a border on a foggéd window,

Simple would life be if forgiveness could only be borrowed.

A tormented man swells with grief from within,

Tears of blood trickle down in heavy drops of sorrow.