He

The cold winter air mingled with the warm summer night,
The seasons came to this ungodly intercourse,
And the heaven and earth became one,
And the earth unveiled her darkest secrets,
Oozed out her hidden anger,
And as the rivers of fire crossed the Barren Grounds,
He watched silently,
The raven perched on the dead stump of a crying tree,
Pandora’s box had been savagely raided,
Treasures unearthed and abused,
And now the pillars of the golden temples,
The summits of the grand Acropolis,
Shivered and crumpled like a burning scroll,
And all the mighty parliaments,
And the house of the Lords,
Drowned in their pride and disappeared,
As he watched silently,
The raven perched on Nero’s head,
All the gladiators and the crusades,
Honor for honor and power for blood,
Burnt away in all the pages,
In elegant libraries, and all the sages,
Shut their mouths at the crack of a whip,
Scurried back into their dingy cells,
As he watched silently,
The raven perched on the records of a bloody history,
What happens next? ,
Has the world run out of all its catastrophes?
Shall there be no more Russian Roulette,
And leader after leader,
Rather follower after follower!
Will display such pathetic impersonation,
Of Prophets after peace?
Don’t bore me, don’t bore him,
He who watches silently,
Perched on the brink of civilization,
Always grimacing, always taunting,
His immortal powers always flaunting,
He is a by-product, Little Satan. Jr.
Came to life when a devastated conscience,
Sought the warm bed of Mr. Devil himself,
Yes this little creature that you never see,
Who giggles sat your ignominy,
Is there to keep the sore,
For ever more,
Don’t go searching!
Out to kill with a fake brave heart,
For he watches silently,
The raven perched on the dead stump of a crying tree.