The Highland Hooves
The splatter of the first shower
The clip clop of the far off hooves
Fairy tale in a modern world
In the woods, a shadow moves
A lone soul in the midst of green
A feeble sound and a wavering hope
Disconnected chords of realism
Rolling stones through a highland’s slope
Everything that goes away and comes back
Everything belonging to or not
An old trunk in a worn down hut
Older fear and erstwhile distraught
And it comes to a stop with a crunch
In front of the dried up pier
The magnificent rider, the trophy
Of the waiting austere
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Reblogged this on JUST the Unwinding of Thoughts and commented:
Encounters of the Philosophical Sort…
Well…I am searching for the philosophy of life. How about I write a sequel to this poem?
That would be really nice, if you’re able to, come up with a sequel, looking forward to it!!!
I loved the sequel. Now the poem itself is telling me the story. I might end up writing up the series š