Young he heard a strange voice in his head...
"Your destiny is of a warrior!" it said...
And it whispered of dreadful things
of hopelessness and flowerless springs...
A sunny walk under darkest of suns
on a beautiful day turned into dismay...
"It was God!" - he shouldn't later say...
The terrible sites ended with one...
Him, lying dead under desert sun.
Leader of last army of man, victorious,
defeated Satan in last duel, but than...
Eyes see a glimpse of Paradise,
of happiness, deprived of in life...
And so remain shall in death...
Such price is of warrior wrath...
His soul disappears into space...
And than he gains consciousness,
something like drunken of grace...
It was than that he lost his fear,
of beast, man or demon.
Than he became a me...
So here remained the fifth
rider of apocalypse
from Death more swift!
And certain is this:
Darkness will not prevail,
for there sent will be the hail
of icy, lightning strikes of sword,
worse and more destructive
than all Hell in accord!
Written on 30th November 2010.
