fauxcroft

Dark hooded rider coursing across the plains

On his black stallion nostrils flaring, 

Wide open eyes with a look insane, 

Racing the dark clouds sailing overhead

Silhouetted on the horizon racing against time

Racing death.

A night of dark obsidian punctured by the light of the full moon

Along a darkened forest now

Declaring it’s fearsome promise of doom

Where only fools or brave men would enter the ancient gloom.

Onward the rider races his destination is unknown

Maybe he is searching for a king upon a throne

With a declaration so important he can  not spare the time

To stop and rest his stallion even for a while.

The steam of the horse is mounting

There are patches of white sweat on his sides

With every breathe the stallion takes

It is a step closer to death.

But in the pursuit of speed and time 

The horse responds to his masters cry

To keep up this pace now for a little more time.

Maybe he’s not racing with a message in his hand

Maybe he is fleeing a highway crime

And escape is on his mind.

Whatever his intention is he’s racing like the wind

He represents total fear and what desperation is.

Under his dark hooded I see eyes that gleam of fire

His white teeth he is gritting

The sweat that pours from his brow tells us everything. 

This is a race of life and death for him

That’s the truth no more no less

Into the darkness of his life and death he dissappears

And nothings left.