The Rider

Something happens to a man
In the shadows.
The hoof beats of generations
Announce themselves
And the leaded quirt
Of taskmasters
Beat the heart and passion
From the breast.

Even darkness cannot cover
The tears of centuries.
Moral breeding
Calls a man to arise
And see beyond the neon truths
The ad mans’ lies
And smiling bait.

Halting in the shadowed road
Is the rider
Demanding answer.

For whom do ye ride?
Upon what business are ye?
He calls for reply.
Time for reflection is done.
Answer must be timely and true.

I ride for honesty
And my business is posterity.

The rider emerges
From the shadows
Eyes burning
His boots anchored
In brass stirrups
The mane of his horse
Flashing lightening
Whose nostrils snort thunder.

Ye best be, boy
Says he.
Ye best be.

I tremble in my shoes.
Even night shade cannot hide
The issues of the heart.