24.06.2020

This morning at dawn the four horsewomen of the apocalypse rode past me on their way to greet the morning star. Paying their respects and redoubling their devotion to the queen of the heavens as she rose anew from her time in the underworld.

The white rider is Communion, She whose ardent longing stands in powerful opposition to Conquest. His unholy domination has decimated wonder worlds and denied their peoples for too long. Every hoof fall decolonising the land she gallops upon, offering country and its true stewards her whole heart.

The red rider is Anger, She whose blazing fire no longer flares to meet War and his wanton destruction. Her strong steady gallop is fuelled by a righteous rage that holds her line and fights for something true and new.

The black rider is Nourishment, She who knows the yearning of hungry hearts and refuses Famine's withholding. Parching the famished and feeding the starving masses from her own bulging saddlebags with a balming care and compassion.

The pale rider is Rebirth, the slow return to life that arrives after Death. She whose constant promise leads the pack silently out of darkness and beyond the grief and loss their quest has cost them, all knowing truly in their whole hearts that nothing lives or dies forever.

Venus blazed above the dawn and betwixt an earth eclipsing itself on repeat. The graceful riders headed for her new horizon in strong silent congress as I wept for their long heralded appearance on the shore. Lady Love's prophecy thrumming in my blood as her call rang anew in my ears. Fresh revelation chanting overdue revolution as the reckoning asks more of us all.

The quickening has begun.

Words and image c. Kerrie Basha 2020