…and what of the horses

…and I came as a pauper

pierced and crowned

by this wild and terrible love

…and I hover

in the afterimages

swirling

melting

breathing me into this world

of shine and shadow

dancing through waterfalls of time

through love’s deep wounds

my heart bleeds into this world,

this world bleeds into me…

…and what of the deep yellow flowers

lanterned in the sun?

golden butterfly chases her shadow

they meet in the petals

and part

again

…and what of the rippling waves

in the feathering grasses

caressed by winds of long ago?

surfing the rush

the zing

where stillness blossoms

and falls,

cloud shadows lightly caress the hills

slide across my face

and eyes

alive with the nakedness of seeing

my chest

my breath

my heart recognizes this wind song

cloud echoes

dissolving…

…and what of this hunger of my eyes to see

my fingers to touch

my chest to breathe

this longing to love?

…and what of the old man

lying in a white cloud of sheets

wrapped in his dreams?

…and what of the young girl

skipping her red ruffles down the street ,

her mother hums a lullaby…

…and what of the horses

behind their soft

and wild eyes?

their quivering tender lips

delicately discovering

the grasses,…

wind tangling manes

unharnessed

wandering

gently

in the open field

hemmed by sharp wire,

do they feel the rippling moon?

…and the mourning dove inside my chest

opens its golden wings…