existential geometry

Remorseful and mysterious,
sinners looking for salvation,
the messengers rode
easily toward the frontier town
at just the knife-edge of sunset.
The sky grew dark and
passed no judgment.
Leather saddles creaked, groaned,
the horses were misted
with sweat and alkaline dust.
Four men rode with purpose,
with pistols armed and ready,
and behind them an open road
curved and stretched for miles
into the distance.

At the gate,
one lone watchman.