Skeletal remains of kings and their thrones,

Would that they rise and break hold the stones.

Spirits of the earth only eternal rest do they seek,

Nights so long past of many horrors they speak.

Sands fury, wrath of the wind, empty souls, lost minds,

Depths of agony descend into the grave, leave the earth behind.

A time way passed they traveled throughout the land,

Causing many deaths and much destruction by their hand.

Now and an eternity their lives retraced,

And feel the pain their many victims once faced.

Villages of kingdoms, families of three,

Evils fiery passion they needed to set free.

Such horror they faced these quite village folk,

Ah but the king’s evil men laughed as a joke.

Blood and screams fueled their lustful need,

Teasing, taunting, prolonging this awful deed.

Maniacal laughter, a blade ripping through skin,

Then striking forth over and over again.

A heart wrenching cry begging for a life,

A curse in the night by the old man’s wife.

“Forever will you ride and relieve this night,

Forever will we haunt your restless flight.

Aye, you will remember because I have your soul,

Forever and always it will be mine to control.”

A joke, yeah. Just a prank out of hand,

And they ride as the curse demands.

No today, no tomorrow, only yesterday,

Time stands still, but they ride each day.

Skeletal remains of kings and their thrones,

Would that they rise and break hold the stones.

Spirits of the earth only eternal rest do they seek,

Nights so long past of many horrors the speak.

© Cynthia Clark