The crimes that I've committed against the rights of men,
plague me with visions full of shame and black as coal.
They motivate and elevate me to serve a higher cause
for it the may be the only chance to save my soul.

I'm not worthy the distinction saved for virtue true,
it is the path of penitence that I must walk,
and as I stagger and I stumble across this barren land
I learn the secret of turning coal dust into chalk.

This pale fine powder called into being through the
conviction of my course
is far dearer than saffron or fine silk.
Once I've transmuted the last charcoal I'll be allowed then
to return,
forgiveness sweeter than almond honeyed milk.

I only pray on that fine day my humility to keep
as a reminder of the origins of sin.
The pride of men is their undoing and the downfall of our
race.
Once it is conquered an age of wonder shall begin.