The Rider of the White Horse

His armor clanged, stones tossed up in the air,

As he galloped through, the vindictive layer,

Breathing all at once, striking his bow,

He slammed at Nazareth; feed him to the crow,

Let not one man pass his clay,

He said as he began to fetch up his day.

In his camp that night, amongst merriment and delight,

Champagne set rolling, turkey and lamb brightened up the sight.

Music, wine and lyre, the stage was all set for a final fire,

It was the last battle of his times, the Kingdom of Tequila,

Lay scheming, all surfaced with Trojans but the peninsula.

Calamander, kindle the fire,

Tomorrow shall bestow upon us, great mire.

Tequila is home to the Squanderers,

With collective might, they shall entrap us plunderers.

The plan was engraved on the sword,

They discussed into the night, of scamming horde.

At the onset of dawn, he sat down to pray,

Wind, fire, earth and water, all desire to stay,

The Pagan Gods clearly worshipped the Rider,

They very well knew, he was their only savior.

Be cruel to your foe, and kind to one,

She is called Isabella, second to none.

Beauty, grace, presence and art,

She has mastered all forms of the worldly cart.

Hurt her not, she’s precious to us all,

Lest you conquer her, great doom shall fall.

Heaven and hell shall all be one,

Save the girl, so she may bear your son.

As the Rider knelt before the Gods and Demon,

The skies wore a knowing pattern,

The battlefield was set, conch shells were blown,

His time was near, the Rider of the White Horse had shown.

Rode across the peninsula, clamped his fist in the air,

Come who shall fight me, let’s see you dare.

Dawn had set forth on the fortress of Tequila,

As they dug trenches to fight him in guerilla,

A group of knives-men sharpened arrows and spears,

It was seemingly going to be a sea of tears.

Women lay hidden in their closet,

Kids wrapped around their arms, waiting for the outset,

Of a deadly scavenging war teeming with hate.

The gates were opened, strings were pulled,

As the artilleries fired, the Rider clearly ruled.

Spears and arrows, knives and bows,

Proved scanty to his strength that forever grows,

With the blessings of the Pagan over lands and snows,

Smart as a whip horsemanship and invincible might he’d displayed,

And he walked straight into the chamber where Isabella laid.

Come with me Princess, you’re now forever mine,

A clown startled the Rider sending shivers down his spine,

He somersaulted as he fell across a trapeze,

The Princess was an ardent lover of Circus, while he’d began to seize,

The clown challenged him to a game of pole,

Whoever wins shall own the Princess, the loser is made to roll.

Brave Rider, if you fail,

You spend the rest of your life, worshipping the Holy Grail,

But if you win, you may take your bride,

Spend your life with her, amidst the high tide.

Grabbed the challenge, the Rider started to perform,

The clown sat bemused, as the pole would deform,

Every time the Rider tried to climb,

It would change shape and take him by storm.

Days passed, the Rider still tried,

Unable to conquer the Kingdom of Tequila, his army cried,

O Clown, what have you done to make me drown,

This pole, it changes shape from a pot to a crown.

It’s unfair, the challenge I say,

What it may take to win the Princess is surely not this way.

The Princess laughed at the Rider’s defeat,

Acknowledging his sincerity knowing of the Godly caveat,

If he were to steal her unwillingly,

Hell would let loose on him seemingly.

Days passed, nights loomed,

The Rider’s fate was clearly doomed.

At last the Princess uttered a few words of praise,

The Kingdom of Tequila had restored its lost grace,

Battles are won not by warfare or armory,

All it takes is a little bit of chivalry.

I am glad you tried and accepted defeat,

But you failed not try, and that’s where he beat.

If instead of war, you’d brought me a rose,

Bloodshed and wreck would not have been so close,

I’d have happily given myself to you,

O' Rider of the White Horse, don’t get in a stew.

Hundreds had died, thousands wounded,

As they travelled across the seas promising she sounded.

True bravery is not in combat they say,

The Rider of the White Horse taught his son today,

Kingdoms shall fall and once again rise,

It takes a lot of courage to begin to size,

Yourself down to a human and then fight,

The real triumph always goes to the morally right.

Generations to come, generations that passed,

Will forever remember the Rider of the White Horse outclassed.