Through the Eyes of Death My empathy descends not on the souls of the lost. Yet I have heard the bullets beckon a name I do not know, at what cost? They shatter the air, light and sound, but to time they are prisoners. Their crying faces cease not till their very end, the brainless slayers. My sympathy falls not upon flesh and bone, yet in your soul love is thus shown. I have seen myriads of death and demises, but yours is illusive, an unwanted guest. They all cry to a God they long forsook, praying for clemency as I laid their souls to rest. Yet your last withering words, held an intriguing inquiry. One I have not heard, one that has merited my sympathy. Time binds all save me, and in the stillness I perceive you holy. Your timidity treads upon life like that of a child. Yet within you all, a devil is to be reviled. From birth your fangs drip deadly words that God never bestowed you. Your faith hanging by a breath, your good is all but askew. So amiss are my cynical eyes, for I see you with awe because you know where truth lies. These words, split through all dimensions and finds a spirits wondering ear. A simple plea spoken, God has answered your prayer. “Death you are welcome, for my wickedness will now be silenced.” So upon my black wings I will give thy soul guidance. Free from every wound and eternal fire, your soul shall fly to Gates of Splendor.