God

The moonbeam fades like silken brows
And on my face ,a secret smile,
Like wrinkles of another Age.

I stand accursed,before a stern jury
The subject of crimes that have not been made]
And object of a plague devastating the country,]
Like ludicrous bunnies out of a hat.

I stand accursed before my time,
As if it were Judgement Day
And oppressive skies ,like a dangerous] Call to explode,will waver between]
Grey and Gloom to implore_]
What?