Ghost Rider

A poem about the moment of death.

Silent hoofbeats
of Midnight's steed
down the path of fate
came the ghost rider.

His face concealed
brandished his blade
the breath of death
whispered in the wind.

Spurs softly sang
raked the charger
grew ever closer
to the Chosen one.

Sword drawn high in
moonlight's altered glow
steel meets flesh
Chosen versus Maker.