A crusader knight clothed,
In crimson and white opal,
Trotted on horseback,
To reclaim Constantinople.

He was wounded and weary,
From blood loss so fatal,  
Caused by an iron mace, 
That struck him at his temple.

Yet onward the martyr marched,
With fellow pilgrims of the papal,
As he prayed out aloud with them,
Righteous and faithful.

But suddenly he fell,
With the arid terrain unstable,
And could not raise his arms,
Since his strength was so brittle.

Lying on the earth depleted,
He began to feel death entangle,
Inducing a sudden sense of panic,
Crying out his last confessional.

As darkness enveloped him,
His state of being no longer temporal,
He heard the voice of authority,
That spoke firmly and was graceful.

"I won't grant you Paradise,
Because of deeds so wrathful,
But because I saw faith and repentance,
I shall spare you Inferno".

And so the calvary knight,
Walked his long journey of the eternal,
And roamed the plains of Purgatory,
In search of Constantinople.