If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
I wonder if I have it in me to be still and steady.
It's funny because most people would consider me to be the picture of still and steady, but on the inside, I am often wild-eyed and jumpy. With the snap of a twig, I am running. I wasn't always like that. I used to be like a docile old plow horse, willing to bear the weight of the collar and peacefully shouldering whatever demands were placed before me. Until I found the courage to break out of the barn. Every soul reaches a point where subordination becomes unbearable.
Why must horses be broken? Why do we feel the need to bend the wild will to domesticity? What drives us to submit to a master or to demand dominion over another?
Does a balance exist between the mustang me and the draft horse me? Does it exist in you? I would like to find a barn that offers shelter and security without dark confinement. I've had a glimpse or two of that but the reality has been as elusive as a storm, rumbling in and passing by faster than I could keep up. No matter how fast I gallop, the thunder clouds are faster. Out of breath, I stop and stand and watch them roll away.
They are free and I am wishful.
WS
I wonder if I have it in me to be still and steady.
It's funny because most people would consider me to be the picture of still and steady, but on the inside, I am often wild-eyed and jumpy. With the snap of a twig, I am running. I wasn't always like that. I used to be like a docile old plow horse, willing to bear the weight of the collar and peacefully shouldering whatever demands were placed before me. Until I found the courage to break out of the barn. Every soul reaches a point where subordination becomes unbearable.
Why must horses be broken? Why do we feel the need to bend the wild will to domesticity? What drives us to submit to a master or to demand dominion over another?
Does a balance exist between the mustang me and the draft horse me? Does it exist in you? I would like to find a barn that offers shelter and security without dark confinement. I've had a glimpse or two of that but the reality has been as elusive as a storm, rumbling in and passing by faster than I could keep up. No matter how fast I gallop, the thunder clouds are faster. Out of breath, I stop and stand and watch them roll away.
They are free and I am wishful.
WS
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