Night

Out of the approaching
wide black night
they flew.
Horses - and many of them.
Their large bodies hurtling through the air,
manes behaving wildly as any
wind blown hair should.
Lean bodies made the power of them
readily apparent.
Some large as a zephyr
dissapeared.
Followed by a setting sun.
And soon a quiet night settled in.
Sparkles in the evening sky were dimmed only by
a rising moon.
Setting the tone for a night, only an artist
and his brush
Could capture.

Quiet life commanded, and silence was only broken by
those too small to see,
Or grass too tired from the wind to care.

Much later the horses were back,
Gaining the focus of everyone with their advance,
From far off they flew - more powerful than ever,
Now carrying a chariot behind them.
A blazing chariot of fire that would come to rest
Only when the night had been chased away,
and the lands swept clean of it's presence.

Many days, months,
many years,
many lives later,
Those same tired horses,
Pound powerfully in the wind,
Their manes still as wild and free
as when the flaming chariot had commanded their obediance.

<font color="#00FF00" size="1">[ April 29, 2005 02:18 PM: Message edited by: Hannibal ]</font>