No one knew whence or when he rode,
but the presence of him belied everywhere he strode.
Not a sound was made when the Great Seal broke,
and the Horseman came riding, donned in scythe and cloak.
Pestilence came galloping,
fire from Hell woke.
His quiver was full and his bow swift,
one by one, his arrows pierced unseen,
from the markets and streets, through each cough and sniff.
his victims were stricken, like darnel in wheat.
But the World was Alive, Blissful and Ignorant,
Thriving on Marvels, and Laurels magnificent.
Man hath rested on them, blind with wanton Pleasure,
For Mammon dulled his senses, with orgy and leisure.
Making man immortal, through dreams streaming through his portals.
And when it was far too late, the stricken fell,
heralding Death with a rattling knell.
Hippocrates Children trembled in fear,
as Death followed Pestilence and from their hands,
their souls did tear.
In only a moon and morrow,
Ten million will cry in sorrow,
As Fear on every city lay siege,
preceding the arrival of her Liege.
