THE BLACK HORSE

Oh I've rode the black horse before,

twice as a matter of fact,

it seems I didn't quite cross the finish line,

and the damned thing kept coming back.

 

The first time I seen it,

I was only a ripe eighteen,

ready for love, or innocent,

or somewhere in between;

I met a man twice my years,

who said he'd love me until death;

I gave myself, my virgin self,

after that he simply left.

 

The horse came then,

well not right away,

but in the course of a couple of days

when I was drawn and heartsick weak,

its promises of peace,

beckoning me to it's saddle-seat.

 

What will remained, would not resist,

the black horse seem to smile then hissed,

I gained its back and off it ran,

along the beach

through cold dark sand.

 

Then with a scream,

he or me,

the black horse turned into the sea;

its mane wrapped tightly around my wrists

his stirrups clasp my feet like fists.

 

The water thrashed about my head

as the heavy horse sank slowly down,

above my head a rippling moon,

and I knew I soon would drown.

 

Preservation or panic,

I don't know which,

but I fought with angers passion

against the black horse bitch;

and as if given a rufutable command,

by Hell, not me,

the horse disappeared,

and I was suddenly free.

 

I crashed to the surface,

and drank the cool night air,

ever so sweet, than ever, ever, before.

 

Then I swore

as I finally touched the beach,

and lay face down upon the sand,

I would never ever see

the black horse again.

 

After that, my years passed slowly

as they do when youth is young

then I met my second great,

and mournful love.

 

Younger than I, a bit of a switch,

perhaps a lesson from the black horse bitch;

his love was quicksilver, slippery and fast,

yet lost in my dreams, I thought it would last,

but dreams are for dreamers,

and my love didn't sleep

his lust was too hungry

his passions to steep.

 

His night of leaving came

as I knew it would,

and when my second lover left,

in his stead

the black horse stood.

 

Upon his back I barely crawled

amongst my aches was too much past,

but before I could resist

the fiend

the black horse turned to glass.

 

Then beneath my weight

I heard him crack

then he shattered splinter-bright

a thousand swords that slashed away,

into crimson flowed my life.

 

I am not sure

what happened next,

from where I was, I couldn't tell

but somehow the black horse had lost again,

and my soul was not in Hell.

 

The room was pristine as wedding lace,

and a strange woman held my hand

while whispering something to me

I couldn't qute understand

it was something to do with the black horse,

of this I am very sure, and I swore as I silently lye there

he would never, never return.

 

My years fell as snowflakes

on warm sprouts of new Spring grass

faster and faster they seem to come

yet never seem to last.

 

And memories of the black horse

as memories always do

faded into shadows

replaced by memories new

now my love has turned from another

to the loving of my life

oh I'll still love again, sometime, some place,

but I shall not ride the black horse

more than twice.