He rides through
the forests the rainy leaves splashing
into his face leaving
scratches on his hairy cheek
the horse panting
his lungs exploding regularly and his
fist clenching
the glass ball in which
he thought he saw
the witch from childhood stories
taking away
his everything
he rides on pushes his heels
into the horse's flanks
in anguish in panic in
agony
for all he has he feels glides through
his open palm
and off it goes
So he rides and rides and...

Back when he was a little child and lay
on his back eyes open
in the dark in his bed
he always had his
palms open
never clung to any thing because
he was the one
creating the things
and he knew
whatever new thing he wanted or needed he could
with the blink of an eye
create

Now he rides makes the poor horse rush
through the dark woods to-
whereto?

The child rises

Whereto? Where does he need to go to-

Inside, stirs, opens the eyes-

He stops
The horse comes to a halt panting
relieved to catch up with his breath-

    They see each other
and the panic the agony the fear
drops
out of his
opened fist
to the wet
forest ground

The horse breathes
relieved