Four old Hoofprints

Submitted as part of a poetry anthology, AS Creative Writing, 2014. 

Four horses raced across the world,
astride were mighty angels – wings unfurled,
and swords of flame held high and swung
A song of death the angels sung.

The angel, grey and glorious,
behind her brought an offering of pus,
a shining crown atop her head
Watched as her pestilence was fed.

Upon the red horse, flame and fire,
Brought fury, strength, and wild desire,
and instilled hate in all man’s hearts,
and smiled and watched her bloody art.

The black horse devoured all to sate her famine,
and spat out those bereft of sin,
and drank and chewed and gorged upon
every other child, daughter, son.

And then the angel upon a white mare
and blood fell from her empty stare
and any left alive would have understood,
that death was all that remained of good.