If I had my druthers, I’d live on an honest to goodness dude ranch in Missoula, Montana, with my very own horse named Shiloh, which if you didn’t know means peace in Hebrew and Shiloh would be pure black, a shiny polished granite coat, a silky mane, a tail swishing forth then back and with a slight and definite nod of her majestic head this magnificent animal would manifest unconditional love throughout the land.

And my life would be lived alongside Shiloh, caring wholly for her, offering juicy apples, grooming her with love and in every single nurturing moment I would learn to care more, later, atop Shiloh, on sunlit path, as she gives a vigorous shiver to shoo a fly off her ****, straight away all of humanity would feel, appreciate the sanctity within the seen and unseen, never again to doubt the sacredness of this amazing life.

Then, on the widening path, as passion arises inside Shiloh, her head high, she yanks the reins, eager to gallop, to be wild, to be free, her smooth gait quickening, scattering birds from treetops,
her snort a glorious trumpet, my legs upon her rigid withers, her hooves pounding the earth, hurling forth holy reverberations beyond the sun, the moon, into the eternal darkness sending compassion throughout the universe again, and again, and again.