And I Don't Mean To, I Don't Mean To

Shadowed stones by leather flask,
Tired fingers on a heavy task;
Was this cup too much to ask
A child of light to drain?

It bears him down with words ornate,
The weight of lust, the measured hate.
His path leads through the darkest Gate,
Hope wavers under pain.

Bright through grime the good shines clear,
Yet friend must fight the malice near.
The guide leads on in greedy fear
And brings the chill of night.

The bearer cannot see the trap
Of blinding pity; nor the map
That hate would walk, his will to sap,
To siphon off his fight.

A rush of darkness, fetid air,
Black breath falls on rumpled hair.
Are fallen angels all this fair?
A small voice softly weeps.

But Love determined shatters spell,
And breaks the net of voices fell;
For, challenging the call of hell,
Love his promise keeps.