The Stranger

Above the decay that feeds this ground A Destroying Angel strode and gazed around His carrion birds careened in flight Above the broken, spectral sight Of the lost, abandoned city. An ancient prophet counseled from his mountain, "Drink not, my son, from the tainted fountain That flows within that city's walls. The blood yet wet within its sunken halls Will poison all who walk its silent streets With whisperings and dark deceits, From Furies there shall come no pity." The Stranger knew, and yet he came To deliver its Infernal name. Its people, strong and scornful of the Fates Missed the traitor at their gates Who for his price let in their doom Turned their palaces into tombs. As yet the air sings songs of violence. Reflected in his empty eyes There moved above the bloodied skies Of sunset or of dawning. His dusty boots rang through the yawning Desolation past the city gates Through which Hope fled to other states To leave behind this awful silence.