Send Not To Know

No favourites does lacklustre death play With equal fervour the doors Of paupers and kings he strikes Whether high or low He does not care At his summons All must follow To where their worldly status Matters not Only Tantalus,Sisyphus,Ixion And their likes Fear what lies below Along with parricides and traitors Those who thought themselves Above divine law Will find sentences condign Eternally repetitive As for the rest Mere wraiths most will become Pining For what they have left behind For some few Consolation comes With the brightness Of the Blessed Isles, Sweet Elysium