The golden scale stands tall and menacing,

Looming over those who dare approach.

A white feather in one hand. A soul in the other.

Three blind sisters watch the dark butterfly

Take the broken soul away-

A broken piece of dull yarn in their hands.

The huge gate looms in the darkness,

Deciding the fate of the soul-

Up to the pure angels or down to the consuming fire.

The winding tree of life guides all souls

When their time is up. The cowardly suffer

And the weak stand strong.