Maybe a reality, maybe a dream.

I cried

I wept…

I screamed-

then I slept.

My dreams were bright;

harsh and sharp.

And in them….

my beloved danced.

Slim legs on small hooves

tapped a beat all their own;

thunder rolled and lightning snapped.




The beat of her heart,

like a drums rhythm,

crashing steadily in the thunder.

Sleek, desert-strong muscles

flowed like wild water

underneath silken brown hide.

Wild incarnate,

the storm followed her.

Ebony strands-

dark against gray-

blew wildly as she flew with the storm.


Seemingly mouthless and formless,

I was a hostage to myself.


Except suddenly she stopped,

tossing her head in true Arabian pride,

bunching her legs beneath her in a beautiful levade.

Pure raindrops fall

as my heart weeps.

And then she moves into a full rear,

striking out in wonderful defiance,

screaming with the wind.

Small hooves beat the air,

mane like wild faery hair,

as she silhouettes against the storm.

Black-lined delicate nostrils flared

on a dainty muzzle.

Eyes of dark-

exquisite, expressive eyes-

hold me caught,

and I fall into myself.

My wild child,

so splendid the storm tries to match her,

saves me from myself.


I wake in the night,

heart beating in rhythm with the storm outside.

The thunder reaches its epitome,

and the lightning breaks the night,

as my wild one races on.


19 April 2011

Submitted: September 10, 2015

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