One hundred wild horses shaking the ground beneath you
Set to reach the limit of running and flying
With unforgivable determination
Unstoppable in the face of any source outside of themselves
But fragile to their own desires
A slave, really, to their fortitude.

The blinding potence of the orange dust, mystifying their purpose

They will forever be (seemingly) tirelessly running
As the limit will never be touched.
Their hooves will forever mark the ground
But they will forever drill the ground beneath you.

Poetry by zana
Read 144 times
Written on 2022-06-11 at 23:26

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