The Storm

On every horizon, just beyond sight,
Lay a storm as black as night.
From it arises a beat, a screech, a wail, a cry,
Of lives torn,
Trust betrayed,
Chaos reborn,
A price to be paid.


The thunder heads pound out the marching beat,
Crashes resound with every step of their giant feet.
Grey-faced soldiers follow one-by-one, 
Infinite ranks blotting out the sun.
Their musket shots ring out loud,
Streaks of light arching across the clouds.
And rain drops fall like cannon balls,
Tearing through every roof and wall.


Over every valley and hill this maelstrom churns,
Laying waste to all in its path,
Bringing naught but pain, desolation and death.
From every direction it comes,
North, South, East, and West,
The four horsemen ride,
Slowly tightening the noose around my neck.


I watch the horizon.
...not a cloud in the sky
But I know it’s there.
I can hear the battle cries...