I can see things clearer now as the thinning day                                                                       

and final hour of my midnight draws near,

for white and brazen are the galloping stallions

 that descend in hellish fury upon me.

Sitting on their back are the shadows

that ride forth in revelation of a tumultuous past

For they are coming, coming with my last rites…

coming for me at last.

And I, oh I, now stand alone,

as silent as ancient stone,

 while they with hair of gold

and eyes of iridescent and burning fire,

 engorge the heavens with the coming show.

For they descend in madness upon my smoldering dreams,

sending me quickly and without mercy, to my knees.

They beckon to me, to grab the reigns of razors wire

 and to mount the steed that they in tow, had brought for me.

I fear and feign not their words to hear,

I mumble incomprehensible, shadowing my tears.

Loosely, yet in a contorted heap,

I mutilate upon the ground beneath my feet

As the dust of the inconsolable, mats my burning eyes,

And seven sacred crows prepare with ravens cause, to dine.

The shadows then scream for me to mount the steed,

But I refuse to forever ride with the shadows of my past.

I will said I,

succumb to one,

who in forgiveness,

and grace,

will forget

not only today

but my past.

With that said and done,

the crows again flew,

and the shadow riders knew.