The Dark-Riders Come Swift, Without Honor...

What shall be made of the dead as their hearts rise from the formidable earth?

The dark-riders come swift, without honor;

downward into the earth, they mutter whispers,

coming clear to their objective, none shall hear,

where will the heart begin to become wild?

They move without thought, moving without will;

they come closer, though none can hear,

silently, silently, silently, those whispers of nor,

Can you not here themselves?

Rising, rising toward greater achievement,

the riders continue, bracing their rides, holding on;

again, I ask, do you believe in miracles?

No? Then let us see what these riders might do!

Fresh from the breeze of our existence,

clearly seen, the hobbits take action;

“Run!” says the smallest hobbit,

but none can cease the activity of the dark ones.

“Wait!” runs the mouth of the ring-bearer,

“Don't, stop!” he runs on his feet, paddling forward;

continue on little Hobbit, see,

see what is possible when matched against the black water.

The dark-riders come swift, without honor;

downward into the earth, they mutter whispers,

coming clear to their objective, none shall hear,

where will the heart begin to become wild?

Author's Note

Please Review this Poem, as I shall be cherished with dark matter and light complaining.

Reviews

[cimmy wuv xxxooo]

I didnt really understand it to be honest. The whole meaning to it and story line i mean.
But it does seem well thought out and very creative.
Keep writing :)