Taste

They gave up on thinking. 
They forced their hand.
They gave up on moving.
They were buried in sand.

A monolith they carried.
Astounded they stood.
A meager position.
A bridge made of wood.

Swift fires undaunting.
Swell tiding came quick.
Shivering tendencies. 
Signs leading to nowhere. 

They came on horseback.
They said they knew best.
They are slightly soft spoken 
The horsemen in the pale moon light.

Easy came quickly.
Earnestly so.
Esther's cold shoulder fits the bill. 
Ends of the earth, the ends of days

You cannot escape the cruel intentions of ghostly figures. 
They will follow you in the peripherals of your sight in the darkest caverns of your mind. 

At night they will haunt you. 
At night it will be too late..