The Nephilim

The nephilim came long ago

With saving grace in his sinuous veins

Consigned by light to lurk in dimness

In equal parts divine and damned

From first foot set on mortal soil

From first breath drawn, to be unnamed

With obeisance he resigned his freedom

Surrendered his wrists to dutiful chains

The gutter scum, his dwelling place

His warming fire, the heat of sin

Of higher planes than human refuse

He dwelt in silence amongst them

And with the roll of years, so soon

The shabby shell matched that within

A casualty to stay the course

Of Earth’s morally unsound spin

Untouchable by filth of years

He strode through changing alleyways

Seeking those whose every corrupted breath

Darkened the shine of mankind’s days

Predator imbued with divine right

He closed the reign of his unholy prey

Upon shoulders fortified for such a cause

He accepted the weight of the planet’s decay

Made of silk and velvet in choking pitch

It fits him well, the witching hour shroud

The blinding lack of heavenly light

Is sufficient for his iron crown

Prince of a doomsdayed race, he hunts

The darkness where atrocities prowl

And upon the marble of the sky

He carves tallymarks of years worn down

Upon street corners he can be seen

A tower amongst cottages of mortal forms

With the flawless visage of a brooding seraph

And battle scars his body marred

Yet beneath the wearied and shadowed brow

From spheres of brewing winter storms

He gazes upon his millennial charges

With a last late spark of celestial warmth