Rise of Death

Swirling maelstrom of black clouds

Wars in tempest with nights darkness!

Flashing light and roaring gods,

Tear asunder peaceful, starry night!

Upon a mound of skulls so white,

Reflecting, echoing nightly screams!

Climbs a forlorn caped figure,

Purposely crushing bone to dust!

Rising majestically, it scythes the air,

Laughing gleefully, as Angel and Demon fall!

Slowly and with millennial patience,

It spreads its wings of pearly white.

In silence the world drinks upon the scene

As Death's shrouded eyes forever seeks!

Mere mortal moment passes...

like a whisper upon a breeze,

Questing upon primal fear...

Haunting frame upon the mind.

Enblazed in swart of blackest robe,

The final stroke, upon silver glint,

Whetted sharp on human souls.

Death's final pose...majestic,

Upon his mound of skulls,

Is fleeting in its portent...

As through the air again once more,

His scythe reaps of fecund sinful flesh!

No more his hand do be stayed,

As from his perch up high,

He flies upon his Angels wings

Speeded to our waking mares!