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Luiz Oct 20
Racing at a hundred miles an hour
a black stallion flies low and days devours
drenched coat and heavy breathing as proof
of furious galloping on steel hooves

legs flow in space like a swan on a lake
through the clouds and thunder until daybreak
the equestrian against sands of time
on his beast to leave memories behind

the sands in glass, it's pebbles at last pass
ages catch up fast from the jokey's past
his home is where he holds, when his mind stopped
by kin in days of old, woven with his thoughts

he was last seen lassoed by the before
where he fights in vain what he once longed for

— The End —