Beauty Rides A Pale Horse
The ghosts of those before me appear within my mindSearching for my soul lies quaking deep inside a blind
Just as though they'd only gone across the way
For a moment again just as plain as Day
If I listen closely their voices audibly materialize
Forms from the past take shape as though to stay a while right inside my eyes,
Whilst counting candles like solitary stars
Lost in pangs of such sorrowful remorse,
An angel brushes her tears across my scars
Then she climbs the sky astride a pale horse,
"There is nothing to regret my child,"she says
"The world was never meant to be the end of All
Follow as best you may come to know the way to where
Your Light lives and burns in truth high on Heaven's wall"
And as The Night coursed through my veins
Filled with ancient rivers sublime ridden from the dust,
Whispering rhymes holding the reins
Summoning the givers of Beauty's spirit athirst,
Forming the words to speak to her bless'ed and kind
The ghosts of Life before disappearing from my mind
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Editors' choiceWritten on 2014-01-01 at 01:52
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