Revelation

I imagine that every age sees within its strife, the slow but inevitable advance of the coming end times. How can we not be fascinated and alarmed by the imagery of an apocalypse? If I were to experience my own revelation about our collective fate, it would be here (or some place like it); the hallowed ground of a battlefield that Joshua Chamberlain once called “a vision place of souls.” The photograph above is the Gettysburg battlefield at last light. Unlike Chamberlain, who fought here, I am drawn to this place for reasons I cannot explain. To create my interpretation of this photo, I incorporated some of the more powerful and enigmatic imagery from the Book of Revelation to supplement my own and, of course, borrowed the title. The end result here is both a poem and a prayer.

Late night ride upon the stallion,

Buffeting through the strong headwinds.

Blind eyes gaze upon the blood red form,

Sad hearts mourn beneath the storm.

As we gather round our mounds to pray,

And the stallions charge against the fray.

The poets walk among the seven stars,

With a black book bound with seven seals.

As four beasts stare full of eyes within,

Our fathers mourn their life of sin.

And if we ride upon this pale horse,

Will the sun and moon stay their course?

Speak thus so our ears can hear,

From each corner of this vast dark earth.

Angels with trumpets standing in the sun,

Spare us now from the fate of Babylon.

Reveal his presence upon the white throne,

From the first to the last, bring us all home.