The Rider

Footsteps in the alleyways of fate,

I hear them coming but I cannot see.

Fate is a foreign land and desolate

Where an unknown voice faintly calls to me

Deepening the eternal mystery,

And I barely conscious to the core

Stand and watch the waves that rush and leap

As the first earthman on a distant shore

Stretched before him like one waking from sleep,

Saw endless horizons of eternity.

The music that I heard before my birth

Is with me still and yet I cannot hear

The melodies that urge the soul on earth

Immersed in grief or solitude to bear

The poison arrows of iniquity.

The world in violence and anger moves

Rushing wildly towards a mad instead

It hears not the thunderous hooves

Of the great white stallion's ominous tread

Bearing the Rider of our destiny.