Darkness hovers as a thick mist around,
Seeping into soft skin, penetrating light of Diana.
Upon the great mount, the White Horseman,
Mystic of ages, consul of secrets.
Ride upon the whispers of Silent Night,
In thy hand the grasp of souls.
And flowing mane of thy servant
Playing in tiptoe games with Wind.
Drink only of the raw dew does oneself,
Graceful droplets of the clean tree
In action of purity and sanctity.
To be clean of the ground thy tread,
Noiseless banter upon soft mud.
The ride is smooth as quicksilver,
Unattached to Their lonesome world
And yet still free from natures refuge.
Light prevails, upon darkness
That suffocates the wandering tract.
And fleeting glimpse of the ride,
Of one such as thee, blinds sight
A feeling of euphoric disillusion.
A pained uncertainty of sanity,
As illusion is the isle of Circe.
And still nameless stranger creeps.
Great black slender crept,
In silence upon splash of blood red.
Slowly to sink the teeth of its lulling victim,
A pathetic play of entrapment.
Freedom till realization, then too late,
A spinning prey soon to be poisoned.
And the plunge so vicarious,
As tender razors seep through flesh with ease.
And still ride continues,
Hidden stranger climbs his tower.
The grapples upon the coarse exterior
Scrape with the most silence.
As the glow of eyes pierce the shadows,
Revealing this slow assassin.
So avid and tempted in its curiosity,
Yet dare not speak word to Death.
And the ageless caller breaks the silence,
A foreboding screech that tears at the flesh of Night,
So soft and tender is torn so easily.
And echo is bled from the gaping wound,
Splashing about in its liquidity.
Hark, its flight, like sword of bloody execution,
Swiftly diving through the air with senseless ease.
Vanishing into the shadows once more, a murky ripple.
Stringing on the lonely player bends his notes,
So soft and sad, a ballad to his Queen Melancholy.
Song of time, of grief, of anguish, of pain,
As deep as the cry of child to the soul.
So soft and meekly overbearing.
And sharply quiet the tune plays on,
On till the heart of such creature dies,
Lost in its song, only leaving song.
And river met, cool water
In moonlit stream haven.
The soft melody of the stream,
Secret hymn to the lonely player,
Two lovers that intertwine in warm embrace.
And upon splashes of darkness,
Shimmering light joins
In ballroom dance upon the water.
And pattered footsteps follow,
Whirling nomad, mystic of whisper cries on.
A sad paradox, wanted by all but cherished by none.
Both Father and Mother Born,
Lamenting Happy, dear child of Joy and Anguish.
Rolling through worlds with ease,
As nectar off ripe blossom slides.
And petals lay upon ripple lack’d ground,
Where no interruption of footsteps upon forest edge.
Serenity’s last holding,
World on fire consumes itself.
At lake edge there is no longer
Endless nature, shift to rocky precipice.
A distorted illusion as
Heat enflames the nostrils.
Deep running slit into The Mother,
Bleed deep with red heat.
No longer emotion pure,
Blackest rock depths, molten hell.
The smoldering of flesh
And burning of souls.
Humanity resides in its torment,
Pandemonium upon stacks of ominous clouds.
Factory slaves in production,
The bodies of the produced are torn
Limb from limb, revealing hidden organ,
And draining of life’s steam.
Grinding bodies of children produced,
Fuel, coal of flesh, stained red with blood.
As giant automatons lift wine glasses,
Blood and parts.
A toast of worldly demons,
As crunch of bones, creates clattered waltz.
With monstrous teeth gleaming with limps and faces,
Dark eyes convey the truth.
The Horseman rears back,
Disbelief of His world.
And slowly his heart stops, as he tumbles,
Skipping pebble upon water, rushing into the primordial ooze.