It’s funny
How Death doesn’t even need to ride
No galloping hooves, no rushing wind
It just arrives
Silent. Certain
Always on time
It’s funny how the horse stands still
Waiting
Patient
Like it knows the journey ends the same
And who it’ll carry
So who’s the saddle for?
The illusion of control?
The riderless hope that we’ll outrun fate?
It’s funny how we all pretend
As if we aren’t already marked
As if breath were a guarantee
As if time didn’t owe Death a favor
It’s funny
But not really
Jun 15, 2025
Jun 15, 2025 at 8:22 AM UTC
It’s funny
How Death doesn’t even need to ride
No galloping hooves, no rushing wind
It just arrives
Silent. Certain
Always on time
It’s funny how the horse stands still
Waiting
Patient
Like it knows the journey ends the same
And who it’ll carry
So who’s the saddle for?
The illusion of control?
The riderless hope that we’ll outrun fate?
It’s funny how we all pretend
As if we aren’t already marked
As if breath were a guarantee
As if time didn’t owe Death a favor
It’s funny
But not really
Request permission to use this poem