End Times Poem by Mary Champion

The world tilts on its axis,
the stars spin wildly
and the moon is blood red.
The bass vibration of black holes colliding
permeates the cosmos.

They have long been anticipated -
some call them legend,
some call them lies,
few take them seriously.

But today they menace all that men hold dear -
larger than life
dealing in death -
the Horsemen of the Apocalypse
approach on cloven hooves.

The leprous White Horse bears a rider armed with plague
and crowned with pestilence.
The blood red horse carries the perpetrators of merciless war.
The scorched earth horse of famine - riderless and relentless.
The fourth horse -
once the verdant green of a fruitful earth,
its back now bears only corruption.

Awestruck by the horror we watch helplessly,
witnessing their inexorable approach,
dying a hundred deaths in our imaginations.
Demoralised by despair,
prisoners of our paralysis
we wait.