he whispered
"the devil
needs a ride..."
as he smiled
at me...
his teeth and eyes
the only features
clear...
sneering and glaring
from a phantom face of
green and black...
off the tarmac and
up the ramp he ascends...
his heavy load ignored as
he lumbers to the top...
he counts his wraiths
as they pass by his post...
as the last one enters
a closed door seals their fate...
tonight they go home.
Hell awaits in its glory...
they are the honored guests
the masters of the dance macabre...
his screams are heard
over the roar of prop blast...
"up we go, down we come
death from above...
silently covering those below
with a shroud of despair..."
the green light shines
with a ghastly glow...
as the master follows
the last of his flock
out the door to be
consumed by the darkness...
and they fall on whispering wings
of green nylon and cords...
the riders of these pale horses
were called Death...
and the Beast would feast tonight.
1 comment:
I like the analogy! It seems I remember reading in history class in WWII how many soldiers were terrified of jumping from a plane, something completely unheard of before and against all better judgement.
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