The Rider: King of the Spirits and the Journey into Darkness (Prophetic Poetry)
The King rides on a horse of white. The heavens thunder with the stampede of heavenly hooves. Fire cascades to the earth like a majestic waterfall of flames. The one who leads speaks and a roar of innumerable hosts responds with enthusiastic agreement. Silence pervades the cacophony of mighty voices and stillness suddenly emerges from the midst of the firestorm. Precise timing is crucial and only He knows when to release the angelic army.
The spirits of the saints stir like the sounds of rustling leaves in the gold of autumn. The changing of the season signifies the death of what is familiar and the embarking of a journey into a winter never before experienced. Feathers of fire force the snowflakes to swirl about in what appears to be rapid confusion but the one who discerns sees the pattern of such cyclonic winds.
A pilgrimage ensues and the Chosen find themselves on the precipice of a realm that was once veiled but will in time be revealed. Their numbers decrease but their strength increases. The world encircles them with distortion as in the maze of funhouse mirrors that twist and bend reality.
The King opens His mouth to speak. The angels watch with eager anticipation and are ready to bring His words to pass, that they may not return void, but accomplish the purpose for which they were spoken. Perfect lips form the word and I can taste it—it is sweet and sour in my stomach. I cannot hear what has been spoken. But I feel it. SHIFT
I followed the rider into the woods. The echo of hooves reverberated through the trees like thunder. The air felt thick and damp and heavy. I did not look at the crows that flew overhead, mocking me with their piercing cries. The sun was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it melted or was lost in its hiding place. I could not remember what had happened to the sun. I only knew that thick, dark clouds clung to the horizon. I rode through the shadowlands knowing that what I saw around me was once free. Now it seemed as if all of creation groaned under the weight of the chains in which it had been bound. Though darkness enveloped the land, it was the suffocating heat that was most stifling.
Only the rider knew where the journey would lead us. Only he held the keys to victory. Though darkness surrounded him, it did not squelch him for he held the essence of the light within him. He lit the path before me with the brilliance that emanated from his face. In his presence, darkness became light and that which was heavy became light.
Shadows fled at his approach and the heat was unable to choke and squeeze its prey. I knew that though I rode through darkness, I was following the rider into a new day.
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