He is the stallion who broke free,
Throwing his rider down, unrelentingly jarring her,
She who reigned his bridle...
He gallops forward with the determination of a glass flint into fire,
Knowing his destiny, evolving himself into a shinier shard of sparkler...
Vitrified into smooth porcelain...
His rider lay on the moist warmth of moss and dirt,
The rhythm of his hooves in concordance with her heartbeat...
She'd been riding towards light..She thought..
But all he cared, all that mattered, was freedom,
Nurturing and nursing flames of resentment and chagrin,
All that while, when she seemingly directed the directionless...
At last, he's free...
My stallions free...
He's but a shimmering unicorn now, which never existed in her life...
His rider lay listening to dying hoof-falls, and a speck of white...
Vanishing into zilch in a few fractions of time...
RJ
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem