Who was he to whistle up that blood red moon,
While despair went howling amongst the headstones?
To conjure down upon us such a monster great and grievous;
With Hope taking flight in the final hour; the last to leave us.

To put all below in shadow while spreading giant wings;
Dry leaves rustling in the dead of winter, no longer living things.
Beating the air and stirring that place where memories go to stay.
Fear as old as time; poisonous vapors rising up to choke all life away.

A deadly draft from leathery wings, sinister swirls across the ground.
Stealing the breath from all living things, quietly; without a sound.
No lamb’s blood smeared on the lintels, of any of the houses now.
Not passing over the chosen; some still worshipping the golden cow.

Honor is dead and the banshees of greed and deceit are loosed.
The powerful prosper, while killing their peoples with misuse.
Denying the common man any value, for his moral sense of worth.
The wealthy amass treasures, for all their slackard kin on earth.

Where health and happiness used to dwell and love warmed hearth and home,
Not a single stone will be left standing; the House of Man is coming down.
Broken windows stare like empty eyes; while doors and dome are falling.
Where then is that righteous man promised to save us, and answer to his calling?

Cruelly crucified he went on his way, unappreciated and abused so very long ago.
Will he turn his face to our suffering this time, or condemn us to the winged foe?
We look on high to search for him now; will he come again in our hour of need?
One righteous man against our sinful world, and for the faithful he will bleed.


A/N: a much earlier post; previously deleted to make room