Sandstorm Poem by Aram Stefanian

In a desolate wasteland I roamed for days and nights
A blinding sandstorm nearly ripped me to shreds
After an ominous silence reigned, I saw the northern lights
And heard something in the rear making heavy treads

It was a tall rider on horseback, clothed in black
A familiar stranger he seemed, yet I could see no face
He carried a scythe, a thick book, and a large sack
Said he got himself caught between a rock and a hard place

He needed one to rectify mistakes in the Book of the Dead
It had fatal misprints which took lives of many innocent men
If I agreed to help, he wouldn't hurry to cut the vital thread
When suddenly the sun shone, I knew it was a good omen

He gave me his bony hand, and I mounted the horse
Which gallopped thru the sand, while the storm gained its force