A Ballad to Time

Sing to me, knights of old, sing to me,

the Heaven-sold, sing to me Hell's decree,

as your bows drawn against the enemy,

sing to me, knights of old, sing to me.

Sing to me, monks of faith, sing sweet songs,

sing to me my sins, sing to me my wrongs.

Sing of our Redeemer, our faith, and more,

sing to me of Hell's daemon Belphegor.

Sing to me so I know what evil says,

as it incarnates in whips of Cortez.

Sing to me your human song, sing to me,

connected by simple humanity.

Love was felt then and is felt right now,

it seems time will let it be allowed.

Revenge from castles old and buildings new,

as we ourselves, forever, misconstrue.

The noble monks, you so cloistered away,

looked with lust upon the Sun's newest day.

Just as the humans of times little game,

Rejoice at the Sun's advent all the same.

We fathom our hearts but nothing we see,

We fathom each other, see sin's decree,

yet, fathom your heart and nothing you see....

Except, perhaps, the immortal Deity?