The Dawn Riders

Sound the alarm, sound the alarm

On the horizon, an on-coming storm

With the Sun the Dawn Riders approach

Black bandit masked and billowing cloaks

Their sabers are sharp, make no mistake

Sound the alarm and close the gate

Black stallions of nightmare standing sixteen and two

The Dawn Riders raid for your bounty and loot

Sound the alarm, do toll the bell

The bastards ascend straight out of hell

The Dawn Riders are coming, The Dawn Riders are here

Hide if you can amongst the chaos and fear

Thunder and lightning pound through the gate

The Dawn Riders arrive, the hour is late

Blades flash in the sun, with red they gleam

Razor-edged horror, followed by screams

The dust settles to fading shouts and calls

Hoofbeats in the distance as tears like rain, fall

The Dawn Riders came, leaving torment behind

The Dawn Riders came, taking all they could find

-Michael S Wigington

The Celt

In a time when the world was new

And morning glory is licked with Beltane’s dew

Earth and Oak savor the Sun in early day

As nymphs in Sacred Groves dance and play

He follows her giving chase, she laughs, darts away

Green eyes follow fair skin as she promenades

Under mistletoe the lovers greet

Mortal desire pangs as their eyes meet

Lips meld and passion flames

Two hearts unite with need untamed

Honey drips as the pestle churns

On the forest floor a bed of ferns

Magical eyes watch him sleep

As a soft kiss graces his slumbering cheek

Leaving him there in cool morning breeze

She frolics and disappears into the trees

-Michael S. Wigington

Chronos

Rush hour they call it

Then why does it move so slow

Have you got any to spare they say

As if you could save it, like grasping oil with your hand

When is this, what is that, as if there is any control 

When you need it most, there isn’t any 

And when dread is upon your soul it crawls by never moving forward

You are wasting it they say, as if you had it stored

How do you spend it they ask, as if it was yours to coin 

A gift they say but who gave it

A new day they say but who determined that

Who set it into motion and made devices that track

Tiny increments they measure and chunks they call by name 

A drop in the bucket to the universe, an eternity to man just the same 

The expanse knows it not, nor the deer of the field or the fowl of the air 

Only man, and he treasures it

As if it was his to keep, and when it’s run out

We moan, we cry and we weep, not for them

No, but for us, we know it is our turn next

For no one controls it as it moves forward

Yet it stands still for the eternal ones 

Captured in stone or bronze they remain 

No effect it has seemingly so, but one day they too shall fall

For it is the master of everything and of nothing

It has no real name, only what man has deemed it 

His feeble attempt to measure it can never count that high 

It never stops

It never ends

Chronos, the unseen...

-Michael S Wigington