Monday, 20 June 2011

A Thousand White Horses

A Thousand White horses ride the basalt
Plain. Showers of quartz spindrift in their wake.
Imbibed; a feral gallop, the bitter salt
Renews my palate and so, I forsake
My spirit to earth, moon and sun. Nether
They perform, from fathoms deep with untucked
Hands to reach a starless curtain. Untether
The unshod rogue and wait for him to buck.
Only then, will he carry me to shore.
He tries to take my breath, use-up my luck,
A salty liquor in settlement for
My pleasure. The sweetest rain will wash away
The tears shed. Life invigorated,
I rise up to ride, again and again...

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