Nobility

Our hands have turned grey in the wars we waged against the inevitable end 

With eyes turned upward to an empty heaven, you ascended to your own allure 
And your own abrogation 

Your one face fell first, and the second followed suit, in conditioned obedience 

So imbued with that ardent flame and drive to seek and pry open the chests over scarcely beating hearts 
To strike a nervous match in the blinding black of a soul's relentless night 

Your plight is sooner decadent than chivalrous 

Christ, your acts distill the acrimony of a grave unattended to 

A bile-filled pit of precognitive perceptions. 

The soils of an earth drenched in blood 

Rise up to meet you 

And share you as families share meals.