The Pale Knight of Liberty

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Long had rode the Knight,
Forever strong; never weak.
Saddles and bridles shining bright,
On a horse that every prince would seek.

Her black armour glistening in sunlight,
Carried by the epitome of lust -
The dark horse, the epicentre of fright,
So loved, when hated be it must!

Whenever the rider rode past,
Forests or villages or seas;
Her curse held her mark,
All life hid in the following breeze.

But when she finally arrived,
And called out his name,
'It cannot be death', he surmised -
Hallucinations should take the blame

Then again a whisper coarse,
He looked around in fret;
A majestic lady on her horse -
How could such beauty be death?

'But it is not time!'
'There's too much left' he said
What is work; what is time?
All of life awaits death.

Not your actions not your words,
Would matter where I take you.
You'll see how life is absurd,
How its only made to break you.

Enchanted by her voice,
And in love with her pale face -
He ran out of choice,
And dropped his bag - burden laced.

Then nothing could ever stop,
The soul free as it was meant to be;
On the gallant horse they rocked,
Through forests, villages and seas.

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