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Wild Horses

Wild horses still run racing off to the beat of some distant drum the wind catching their wheat in the swaying winter manes with their figures a shadow in open plains. Hoof beats pound the earth pounding out the rhythm of a storm where sky and land were birthed and yearlings were free when first born harnessed of late by the girth and bridle of man they slip into submission apart from the open land. Wild horses have withered over the years as native lands are taken away and the memory of freedom disappears every day in the games men play long rivers and flat rocks no longer bend the knee to the mountains falling into the sea. "The Wind of Heaven" Justin Hayward https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5RMPUJE44s&list=PLO-UbICkLW9N1nn4ZW7m0JbHHPtxmjWVW&index=5

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 12/4/2017 2:30:00 PM
DM: I could see them running just beyond my reach. Well done. Keep them coming. oldbuck
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Date: 12/1/2017 1:17:00 PM
I am afraid of what is going to happen when the wildness disappears. Only our memories to tell us what once was. Your poem has reminded me of my fear and frustration.
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