A horseman in the mist
Upon a steed of mottled white;
Foretold in scriptures reminisced,
He rides in conquest o'er the night.
In sight of heaven, he is crowned
Thus is his sanctioned rule proclaimed;
But where shall accolades be found―
Among the blameless or the blamed?
Besieged! A second horseman comes
Awash with blood and searing flame;
His hoofbeats pound as beating drums
As he assails to kill and maim.
He bears a sword few dare to wield
And strikes the dove from stormy skies;
Forgotten passions long concealed
Unfurl with plans of cruel demise.
Begone! Another comes to pass―
His visage gaunt from hunger's blight;
With empty scales of burnished brass,
He rides on colors of the night.
Across the fields of harvests due,
He tramples bounty into dust
And spares the grain for but a few
Which thus reduces gold to rust.
Beware! Amid the dreadful scene,
A ghastly horseman rides alone;
In search of spirits still unclean,
He prods the dead with pallid bone.
The condemnation of his gaze
Burns deeply those he passes by
And in his wake, perdition's blaze
Takes heed of those ordained to die.
Believe! The final horseman comes―
His mount as white as virgin snow;
The darkness of the world succumbs
O'er His redemption long ago.
Ride swiftly with our righteous King,
Adorned in linen, clean and white;
Come praise His holy name and sing
And spurn the horsemen of the night!