Mon, 11/25/2013 - 14:27 -- aaa117


As the ashen harbingers loom abreast,

Heaven bellows in anger, and from it

Ascends the pale horseman, the dreaded guest,

Riding on to collect my damned spirit.  

The Black Angel nears, hoar and diseased,

Why beset our wretched, mortal shore?

And then from his shadowy cloak I see

That my upturned hourglass flows no more.

Recalling my life’s memories, I smile

Welcoming the scythe’s icy blade through me.

Embrace me Death, I surmounted this trial,

So send my soul into eternity.

With peace of mind, I do not fear life’s end.

Now, I only wonder to where I am condemned.


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