I ride the hands of time,
like bronco.
Each minute a blade of grass
Each hour a mountain to climb.
as I trot in fields of optimism.

I ride its thin sleek body
that drifts in grace,
merging with ticking of heart.
I awaken seeing my own face
as each second  becomes a pinnacle part,
of my orchestrated life.

And as I gallop cross fields in day,
I balance and ground
in stirrups of breath.
breath that hold me tight,
as time disintegrates into a cloud.