Asleep, the girl
ran with the horse,
bound in flight,
afraid to be seen,
as together they clung to their dream,
One long cast to the night,
as the little girl,
a spirit of the trees,
a spring illiciting a breeze,
raced fiercly against the time.
Knowing her dream
could have no light,
only a day where she
is unseen, must lose her might,
a woman in a world of demand,
told by his god
she was unclean,
made by him to suit his need,
and support his fear of her dream,
of the soul of the rivers,
and its spirits moving,
laughing and strong.
Specks of light,
stole more through the night,
and the splendid horse,
galloped faster.
The fists of the girl,
clasping its hilarious mane,
her free black hair,
straining in laughter,
for there was still enough time to dream.
Soon a day of harsh white,
would claim
the fine buds of morning light
as so many years
had been the same,
and tears been cast
at mens blindness and their shame,
for if one is evil
the other cannot be just.
Soon the strong female
child would be told,
her fear sustained,
her knowing be insane,
as she stumbled past the day and it´s pain.
But now galloping hard
she could dream.
The white creature,
of perfect form threw
back its head
in disdain as it raced
to catch the night,
Where it could live,
with its finess instead,
in the meadows and
fields golden from
mysterious rain,
and drink from musical
streams laughing like
mountain dreams,
as they formed in the hearts of the dead,
Those who have been,
there unseen for thousands of years,
woven in dreams of the finest
thread.
Ahead lay the night,
with stars bright, and high
endless in their fields of fire,
and stiring the glory of the sky,
in its secret meeting
with the child,
the girl being in a dream,
instead of dying in a day
of men.
Together, their movements,
graced by the air,
their heads broad with
fear and life,
they raced in pursuit of their night,
the dream gliding back to the stars,
told by the day
of must and brightness,
blinding the souls of the birds,
Harsh laughter
dropped with the rain of the day,
with grimy thuds,
on rushing streets,
and whipping lives,
to run where they may,
but to lose the smell of the clay,
as it lay bare with the love
of the rain.
Away from the somewhere they sensed,
the sight they had shed,
when the girl had been
left to the night,
an evil religious dream.
But
In their dance
to take flight,
in their haste to escape
they galloped faster than
it seemed they should,
a female child and
her wild wild horse.
They found more light,
in their dreamy night,
than she had been taught she could
And they were seen, grey and
twinkling,
An array of jewels,
mingling harsh day with night
and carrying the must
to the shrouded light
containing all humanity.
Now the proud white horse rests
at moving streams
and takes his life from their grasses,
and the female child,
laughs amongst the
tunes of the world,
as they sing with her endless dances.
ends
