When I see horses running on the plain
I’m always pleased with their fantastic grace,
the smoothly moving, rapid speed of pace
as I stand idly on the hillside lane,
and work out every loss and every gain
of all the motion I can see or trace,
in every feature of each equine’s face
as they begin to feel the speeding rain.
If you believe life is a golden thread
with iron scissors bringing it to end
then you should become frozen by your fears
of the dark beings ordained to require
to punish you each moment that you bend
your painful back, and seek to hide your tears.
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