Our Time Will Come

A warm disc sets at dusk behind the rigid range bordering a broken valley.
Jagged are the remnant rays that pierce through the souls of the unseen.
He calls for him, descending on a throne unhindered by gravity; a steed a quart as dark as it's rider.
Gracefully floating on a lofty darkness, distorted to the world around, yet clear to the eyes the One possesses.

A figure, tall, robed in heavy brocade lacking colour.
A dark flame on the open palm of righteousness, obeying the command to retrieve that of which whose shell is due to expire.
A solid black hologram, yet physical, endowed with the grace of silent levitation.
His touch is to die for, whether in fear or elation.

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"I pray thee, all mine wealth I'll give if it were to purchase but a day!"
Silent he was as the words fell away.

"I pray thee! By all mine wealth and what fortunes are yet to come,
surely I may purchase even a portion of one!"
Silent he remained as his touch grew near,
Silent and dumb.

"I pray thee thrice over! By all mine wealth and all mine deeds.
All mine fortunes to come and by the souls of the unseen.
Surely with this you could grant with your power,
time to mend the scars of others before meeting my hour!"

Ever still he paused to speak:
"By my orders from above I have come to retrieve,
the soul of a creature who left many deceived.
Wrenched the trust from the hearts of the ones who believed.
Scoured the eyes of the ones that it numbed out of greed.
Forced the tears of it's child after burning her knees.
Drowned the hopes of it's mother in the stench of it's needs.
Not it's fortune, nor it's deeds could buy it this day,
nor the souls of the good, had they stood in my way.
It's time, it has spent, in a lowly masquerade.
Recompense will see it's soul stripped away".