The Trouble with a Fine Horse


You have a fine steed

The envy of many

And you enter

The Greatest Race of All

Round and round you go

When suddenly

A portion of fencing

Falls away

And your steed thunders through

And for a while you run freely


In silent agreement that this ride

Could never

Must never


Then suddenly you find yourselves

At the edge of a vast ocean

To continue the race

You must set your steed free

And go it alone

But how can you release him

When he has carried you so far

This is madness, you say

As you release his reins

He stands by you - equally hesitant to go

For without you upon his back

He is merely part of Nature’s landscape

Not One Fine Steed

But you urge him away

And face the water


Knowing nothing

But the cold campfires of those before you

Jumbles of chalky bones revealing the indecision of some

While vacant campfires keep the secret of others

Surely you’ll die

Yet you are willing to die crossing

Rather than become an indecisive pile of chalky bones


And you are drawn

By something higher than reason

More certain than logic

Madness, you whisper one last time

And as you begin your crossing

You smile

And notice

You have begun

To fly.