The Pale Horse Poem by Randy McClave

I ran away from the battlefield
Where all life was led and then killed,
I looked for survivors and worshipers, there was none
There was even blood upon the sun.
And there sitting was Death,
I could smell it upon his breath,
I saw family and neighbors, life was grim
And Hell, it followed with him.
Power was given unto him over the fourth of the earth
To kill with a sword, and with hunger, unto his mirth,
And followers quickly joined his campaign
With guns and knives happily they murdered, they slain.
Jubilant disciples killed for no thought or reason
They all believed that this was their season,
Then they released the hungry beast
Unto the scared and innocent they would feast.
The white, the red, and the black horse already arrived
For the souls that were wicked and lost and deprived,
If man believes that he must not follow this course,
Be aware of the rider, on the pale horse.

Randy L. McClave