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Four Horsemen

High above me, in a cloud filled sky
lit dimly by the veiled moon,
four horsemen gather on death head steeds,
and their faces wear the mask of doom
Lightning flashes from stone cold eyes.
Thunder echo’s loudly as they ride.

I tremble when I see them,
though they have passed my way before.
Their names are burned deep wit in my soul.
They are greed, pestilence, death and war.
They bring with them the apocalypse,
and their swords drip red with blood.

They laugh, when they see me cower,
and then without paying further heed,
they drive sharp steel spurs in to bony flanks,
then in voices that would cause the dead to quake,
they call loudly to their steeds.

I tremble with fear as I watch them,
ride through stormy skies once more.
In dread, unable to breathe, I wonder,
what lands do they intend to plunder,
these horsemen of the apocalypse,
greed, pestilence, death and war.

It is we who in our pride have called them,
to ride through our lands once more.
we prefer the sword to the olive branch,
So now the deadly horsemen once more ride,
as they have so many times before,
greed, pestilence, death and war.

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  • Keeper of the Sword

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