Four

They are Four they follow us, Alone in wh us Disease, Alone brings then,the other three, Or brings them on, the other three, They pair together as they please. War always waits, his horse is red, His friend in black, the Famine breath, Before the end pale beast, it brings The king, he kills in kindly Death.

Oh God in grace do grant us Go where other worlds are grant us And when we're gone,in grace again, Give them this world to glean. Leave them there and let them be The last of what we were that day, Then give us one more day of grace, And we will wander on our way. -Robert Martin Stomel

Laguna Woods, CA

Copyright The Human Quest Jul/Aug 2000
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