Knight

Sitting in the circle,
room is spinning around,
silence is haunting, screams below the ground,
where one lie still, in eternal rest,
candle is burning, blood upon his chest,
with sword in hand, shield beneath his brow,
in broken shackles Templar was found;
severed head, body was drowned, eyes plucked,
hair burned down, nose disposed, ears cut off,
listen carefully, blessings from the Pope.

To last of his kind he reached for help,
spoke the scene, bribe was theft,
angry they thrown him in jail,
to read the scripture they sealed the pen,
where one live still, in ink of den,
shadow has spoken,
dawn of descent.