The Pale Knight of Liberty

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.