Hope is irrelevant, a dashed streak of scarlet
That crisscrosses the souls of scapegoats.
Just like the peace before the storm,
It lingers around its victims;
An anesthetic before the inevitable.
Like a shepherd struggling to control his flock,
Iscariot sends it away with a kiss.
Swept away like dust under the scrutiny of the legionnaires
And a blatant travesty in the name of love
That wipes their slate clean for God’s eyes to see.
It is of the Fountain,
Reborn within every human.
It is Janus, immortal only in the eyes of creatures
For it is transcended by nothing but darkness,
Resigned to drifting through the void of space.