Judging Judas

Traitor, filthy murderer, say some.
Some have claimed his place in hell is sure
and deeply seated. At his core, treason
of the foulest kind, a satan-poisoned soul
unwed to anything divine.

Certainly, he who betrayed the savior of the world
should burn, gnash, and in Judas' case, be gnashed,
until his existence, compiled of ash, was swept away
by winds of time. I once though so.

But now, in a waking guilt's cold stare,
I wonder if I, perhaps, am nothing more than
Judas redefined, my own truth realigned and weakened
now, as it is from time to time to time.

For I have known Christ, know and love Christ
and, known and loved by he, have turned away,
not thrown him to the romans, but, in his scourging throes,
have thrown him further into his distress. Ignoring him
as the example by which my life is judged.

Therefore Judas, whom I don't know (for whom
can I?), may rest in heaven, burn to states of unbeing
adjacent to the throne of hell, gnash his teeth in Satan's maw
or may simply be somewhere in between.