Nameless

He wanders now without a face,
without a mind that we can trace, 
across beduned and desert plains
where never falls lifegiving rains.
And even Death's forgotten him, 
has lost his name, the reaper grim.

I saw him once when I was young, 
when word had come, "The bell was rung!"
and he, a shadow, met the hoard;
he slew their god, their demon lord.

And he may come for you as well,
but I know not where he may dwell.