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The Rider on the White Horse

The sky holds its breath, a seam torn open wide, Light sharp as a blade on the edge of time. Every promise we buried, every truth we denied, Stirs in the thunder before the sign. His eyes carry fire older than flame, A gaze that knows every secret name. Crowns stack heavy where mercy meets might, Blood on the hem, not borrowed, but earned. The lie of our kingdoms dissolves in His sight, Every crooked road finally turned. Steel in His word, justice in breath, Love that outlives both fear and death. He does not come quiet, He does not delay— The long night fractures At the sound of His name. Behold the Rider in white, Faithful and true in the storm of the end. He weighs the world in righteous light, And still His mercy stands. Behold the Rider in white, The war is decided, the veil is torn. What was broken bows to His reign— The King returns, adorned. The armies of heaven breathe as one, Silence louder than the drums of war. No blade is raised till the word is sung, And the darkness knows what it’s for. From dust to throne, from wound to crown, Every false power is breaking down. Not vengeance born of human rage, But truth that burns the final page. The judge is kind, the verdict clean, The Lamb revealed as sovereign King. Behold the Rider in white, Faithful and true beyond all doubt. The fire in His eyes writes the night, And the morning answers out. Behold the Rider in white, The end of the age, the start of the throne. What was divided is made whole— The King comes home. So let the earth unlearn its fear, Let every hidden thing be known. The door stands open, the King is here— And righteousness rides home.