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The Destoyer
I charge undaunted o'er the land,
A shade with twelve, black wings;
All are gathered 'to my hand,
Lowly serfs to noble kings.
No one comprehends my stride;
No one knows my way.
Upon a pallid horse I ride,
Wand'ring night and day.
My tracks are marked by human tears,
And mourning is my train.
The prince am I of mankind's fears,
A sire of grief and pain.
Holding fast my bitter blade
And granted peerless might,
In countless watchful eyes arrayed,
Naught escapes my sight.
Divinely charged this sombre role
~A burden mine alone~
To extricate the human soul
From its fleshly throne.
Riches, knowledge, fame, and pride:
Each is stripped away.
Where, oh mortal, will you hide
On your appointed day?
For at that time, your fateful hour,
My blade shall find your head.
And yielding to my frightful power,
You'll join the foregone dead.
Through the heavens I shall bear
Your riven soul to meet
The One who sits exalted there:
Upon the judgement seat.
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