On a ride of midday dreary, ere he
Tastes what come what may, he glimpsed upon a
Distant hill, he clearly heard voices shrill
Hail Thane of Cawdor Macbeth king to be.
The sun began to hide its face from all
His thoughts of tyranny and evil deeds.
The blossom of his heart with eyes so dark
Has heard the calling of the lark and pushed
A soul upon the hated path of hell.
A path in which fair kings shimmer and die
A place where innocent children do cry.
Ghost of nightmares taunted he and added
To his misery and spurred him onto
Tyranny where no one mattered, only
He. In the place of his infested mind,
No ocean can wash the blood from his hands.
The smell of power beckons and calls he,
While visions of old haunt him and taunt him.
A shattered soul cringes and flee o'er seas,
Afraid of his ghastly, bloody deeds.
Apparitions encourage while shadows
Burn him in his cowardice. Everywhere
Immortal words tear at him and his dreams.
All his evil thoughts and hopes are e'er gone.
Sunlight kills the sinful raven of the
Darkened heart. Anon the sun does show its
Face to those of true and honest ways, here
Macbeth is gone and no one sheds a tear.