United States
34° 4' 1.2468" N, 84° 5' 26.61" W

Concealed and dark is the Magistrate of Heaven
As it winds down a relentless shimmering staircase
On the Chariot, bound by a mound of Earth
Racing toward a sufferer, heads faced toward death.

All that was is no more and all that is will never be.
For the Chariot races past glimmering fields of life
The Chariot races past fountains of youth
The Chariot dribbles upon the earth, heads faced toward death.

And the children in the courtyard spring
And the babies upon a bossom spring
And the faces of cheer and glory turn not their heads
While the Chariot races past, heads faced toward death.

But upon that Chariot sees a man no evil
A woman no threat, and a child no friend.
For all that one finds is a smile, inviting and kind
Sprawls the restless Chariot, heads faced toward death.

But no worries, for one will not miss it.
Upon the Chariot sits a grinning figure of content.
He extends his hand, waiting patiently, for anybody to pass by.
No more must one hear silence, heads faced toward death.

For now the Chariot is on its way, far to be.
Into the ground may it travel, with its precious cargo.
To return with the kings and peasants who have walked the Earth.
A smile, a nod - heads faced toward death.


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