The Four Horses

THE FOUR HORSES

GREEN

The Earth beneath is set to tremble,

Saturated with the rot

Of centuries of misled judgments,

Willful choices, wasted lots.

And kicking up clods of decay

With hooves that slice through curling fog,

The Horse of Green comes galloping,

As pale as lichen on dead logs.

He brings with him still apprehension,

Worry of what is to come,

Yet never far behind his trail

The giants of new beginning drum.

BLACK

Smoke hovers above the ashes,

Blackening the desolate fields.

The eyes of emptiness look down

While echoes of deep dirges peal.

For above the shadowed land

A creature dark as witching night

Stands still as solid, shining stone,

His heavy head mourning the blight.

He paws the dirt in broken tribute

Sensing each forsaken life.

Although he may dismay at such,

The Horse of Black brings only strife.
 

RED

Blades of grass caught in red current

Brace themselves for fallen men.

The fiercest battlefields of warring

Are the purge of human sin.

From amidst the clash of iron

Steps a beast with flanks of steel.

His powerful stride and glowing eyes

Reflect the fiery furnace wheel

More savage than a warrior’s cry

More burning than a searing torch,

The Horse of Red, a darkling flame,

Has fire enough to all lands scorch.

WHITE

Mist hangs low on snowy mountains;

Silence settles peacefully.

A moment surfaces in which

The land rests in tranquillity.

Then echoes sound between the cliffs,

And flakes of ice rise into air.

Cold gives way to golden fields,

Rich green forest, mended cares.

Coming fast in flowing glory

Galloping engulfed in light,

He brings with him the news of triumph –

He that is the Horse of White.

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