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The beasts will go wherever darkness goes.
They feast in pitch-black jaws of open vastness.
The crowd hoots and cries, and Evil grows
Rejoicing in their idle world of darkness.
An old man came, who wouldn’t yield to doubt,
He fused his soul with light and held his stance,
He never flinched, when demons shook the ground,
And pierced the Devil’s tail with his lance.
His fighting, battered soul would not abate.
The Evil wailed, overcome with hate.
PART III. Hell (9)
© Copyright Valentina Battler. All rights reserved
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