Grim
I, oh my, all-sweeping force;
And the name that burns upon me -
Man upon the pale horse!
Try escape me, dare ye, tempt ye;
Shalt forever unbecome
In the land of fog beneath me;
Fear me, loath me; seize, succumb!
I will find ye, grab ye, bind ye
With avenging hand beside me,
Nothing but repose inside me;
Shalt inhabit eerie times...
But for those who don't invite me
And, when met, accept; abide me:
Thus shalt know old friend that guides thee
To the promised realm divine.
Such forever He's abandoned;
Yet to every soul inbound:
Dream they ancient roar: "ABADDON!",-
As each wake's concluding sound.
Свидетельство о публикации №126020306134