Order your black horses, Lord,
Let us saddle every one;
For the watch-men turn to guard your flank
From the clouded, covered sun.

Their hoods are drawn about tall heads,
Their shoulders stooped and bowed,
And as you stumble, low between them
They stifle words not allowed.

Steady beat overlayed in rhythm
Keeps guard against your eyes,
Blackening to tear 'bout you
With windswept desperate lies.

Feel the mud beneath your feet,
Child, rid those garments cold -
Feel flecking rain against your skin
And across your lips grows mold.

Time does not pass innumerably -
- The twilight does not cease -
Merely echoes endless fathoms,
A papered life-long lease.

And now we arrive; Destination,
Blink in the cold night-light;
A scythe flicks down and cuts your ground;
Now greetings, My Endless Night.