Burning like derision on the prism of night   Still squirming from the sermon, those determined parasites   Meant to overpower and bedizen his light   He paced his tower prison with a dissonant appetite   The moon was black      Devil may care   Three times he'd glared before his judges   Darkening there   With a Wormwood mind   And a gullet of poison      Asked   He thought the court a farce   His tongue as sharp as glass   A bastard to the last   This truth assassin...      ..tautened his claws at the ruinous cast   Flexing vexation at clerics aghast   In uproar he caused the cross to be masked   And the hex of exile from God's Kingdom passed      Back in the mirror, shattered vanity died   The curse even clearer on the sanity side   Banished from the lavish tracts of paradise   From Heaven's shored poured to the sore divide      The moon was black      Devil may care   Their thunder sundered all his veils   Thickening there   His beligerent pulse   To a sickening crawl      Yes   He'd fostered wickedness   Fed vipers at his breast   Inflicted death's caress   So now to suffer...      He'd burn, discern   That his second turn   Would last for eternity   In reckoning flames      That night his plight marched in demented Parades   O'er a rainbow of black magic scars   The blood ran to fear, turned to torment in spades   Deep in the sleep of this heretic, barred      The nightmares were livid, occultist, depraved   His epiphany struggled to come   But dawn found him there, redemptive, prepared   Like Christ to Golgotha, his face to the sun      All fears were smeared   When Joan had appeared   In a shower of tears   Last vestige of innocence      Yearning for her vision of divinity   Of her miracles and dreamt lyrical deeds      He would meet her at the pyre as the fire kissed   And together they'd climb to God, entwined in bliss      Devil may care   He awed the court with a sworn confession   Quickening there   His radiant death   And acute renewal      Thus   The end was glorious   He went like Jesus trussed   To shadow and to dust   At the stroke of seven      And   With thieves at both his hands   The Reaper of these lands   Wept with holy plans   As he choked to heaven