when death comes, he will not wait
“Denise Poncher Before a Vision of Death,” circa 1500 |
he will not stand nor hesitate
he’s often early, rarely late
and invites us all to meet our fate
death, my friend, you have no name
but i know you well just the same
you come from where from whence we came
to take the fallen and the slain
my thoughts are on fire and my life burns
like a cold, hard wind on a bitter sojourn
descends from the heavens and howls to return
embracing the land in a long winter nocturne
and when the four horses come
i swear, by God, he will be riding one
upon a pale horse with blood-red wings
slaying paupers and princes who pray to old kings
death, my friend, i know you well
you live in-between heaven and hell
from the dawn of the day to the toll of the bell
you dance in the shadows wherein we all dwell
“Danse Macabre,” by Michael Wolgemut,
1493
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