Black Horse

Black horse of thunder, black horse of storm
Stampede of darkness o’er the morn
Clods of horizon flung up in air
Swallowed in dust and dusky despair
The winds are rushing; their clatter of hooves
Splatter droplets of soot running down grooves
Yes, the world is running, running from whom?

Black horse of ire, black horse of end
From my window, it adopts canter again
And the world changes courses again
Here they come, running this way
Away from that steed that tramples the day
In hopes of saving afternoon
Yes, the world is running, running to whom?

The equinoctial gallops across
And bridges the gap ‘tween scattered and lost
And the world is all scattered and lost
And hope is all scattered and lost

A flock of sheep bleat in their pen
And scramble around, all scattered and lost
A flock of words bleed from my pen
And fumble around, all scattered and lost

The black mare snorts outside,
Gazing through my windowpane
And I know that it is time again
When night overtakes the day

And leaves us groping for a way
And leaves us groping for a way