The Four Horsemen ' Riders Towards The Sun ' Poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd

In the ancient dark times,
The stories were always told:
There were four of them, those rangers,
Riding, in the nights of cold.

Fighting for the lost souls;
With magical powers, none did behold!
Four noble warriors, were their roles,
The fates of others, they controlled.

Of a future, beautiful and bright,
They have been always trolled;
So, Towards The Sun They Ride,
Conquering the darkness on the mold,

Defending the rights of others,
Asking for no silver, nor gold.
White, Red, Black and Pale-Green,
Within their hearts, without the world.

Yet, this unbreakable demon
Deep inside, growin' darker but bold;
The hunger for greater powers,
Two times more, no, It's fourfold.

Two of them were lured
To the evil side, and holed;
Spreading famine and fear,
From their striking stronghold.

Swore vengeance, the other two,
For what has been foretold.
At the sound speed, in the night and through,
As lone riders they bowled.

For once they made an oath,
'Forever riders till we grow gray and old'
For once they reached glory,
For once but no more, they were extolled.