And Death rode near on his pale horse Not a shred of fear or sign of remorse Did he display on that dreadful day When the Gates of Hell did crack and sway. "Come and behold," he boomed aloud His presence marring Hades shroud That followed his every brooding move. His power fit him like a glove. Before him, a rider, so gaunt and grim That his hungry flesh drew taut on him. "Come and behold me!" he didst shout From atop his dark and frightful mount. In Famine’s hands, a pair of measures, Used to weigh out barley’s pleasures, In stingy scraps, a miser’s share Though wine is spared, for special care. A new seal crack'd and out he stepped War his name, his red horse crept Through the gates of Hell, their walls ablaze Wielding a great-sword through that cheerless haze, To take peace from those that live on earth And man shall kill man, for this beast’s mirth. The death of many, the blood, the pain, Matters much to him, whom peace, hath slain. As all grew dim at this bleak sight, A horse emerged, of purest white. Rider silent, yet on his head, A crown of thorns, for he had bled In painful memory, for those before Destroyed him once, when a cross he wore. This new coming, the end, of ancient ways, For out of the Darkest Of Nights, Shall come the Brightest Of Days.Birth sign: Libra
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