I never thought
I'd get off this high horse,
For my feet to touch the earth
And feel something,
No clouds to obstruct my view,
Throwing the rose tinted glasses
To the ground
And crush them into the soil,
But new realisations can be
Hard to deal with,
So I must take my time
To piece it together

he said he just ******
off on its leg, but I think
Steve ****** Bullock's horse

Tired and tied tight
To the unyielding plough,
I scream myself hoarse
Into the silent field
Of endless toil.

Knee deep in the sludge,
Shackled and blind,
A waning force
Too stubborn to yield,
Too proud to kneel.

At the last pull I fall,
Too weak to climb up.
My health they endorse,
Their intentions concealed,
"Come back when you're healed."

The carriage arrives
To take me away.
The knacker's draught horse
Bought from the field,
Naught but bone meal.

i am a
horse
on a
carousel
with four legs
built to run
but i insist
on retracing
the same
circle

On a cold steamy morning,
With your  velvet touch
You muzzle my neck.
And I share your breath
As you welcome me back.

Whilst the coppery gleam
Of your shimmering skin
Ripples under my hand,
I lean against your strength
Feeling warm and content.

Your gentle eyes
Reflect the rays
Of the Winter sun
On the golden haze.

I weave my hand,
Through your shiny mane,
And my sigh is steep,
As you whinny deep.

I can see her breach the horizon.
Finding her way down a dirt road, that's familiar to me but not to many others.
A mare, powerful and strong.
No saddle, no reins, just her own natural force directing her where to go. She is beautiful, and her freedom makes her just that much more so.
I want to go to her.
I want to be where she is, in her world. I don't want to tame her. I don't want to fence her in, to exercise control. I couldn't even think of how to try.

Her magnitude is inescapable, but I must keep my distance. I want to approach her, but I cannot. As much as she attracts me, I dare not interfere.

For she is wild and free, and I am not. I wouldn't dream of poisoning her perfectly pastoral existence with my minutia. My world is one that moves too fast for her to be included in it.

So on the horizon she must stay, with all her liberty to walk on whatever dirt roads she pleases.