Justice Does Not Descend From Its Own

Conscience, That Boon Companion Who Sets A Man Free Under The Strong Breastplate Of Innocence, That Bids Him On And Fear Not.

Into The Eternal Darkness, Into Fire And Into Ice.

Everywhere Is Here And Every When Is Now.

This Sorrow Weighs Upon The Melancholy Souls Of Those Who Lived Without Infamy Or Praise.

This Miserable Way Is Taken By The Sorry Souls Of Those Who Lived Without Disgrace And Without Praise. They Now Commingle With The Coward Angels, The Company Of Those Who Were Not Rebels Nor Faithful To Their God, But Stood Apart. The Heavens, That Their Beauty Not Be Lessened, Have Cast Them Out, Nor Will Deep Hell Receive Them - Even The Wicked Cannot Glory In Them.