Dream of Seven Horses

In silhouette against the black curtain of stars,
And a full moon that hangs like the history of dreams,
And they are beautiful creatures with no trace of fear in the eye,
I cannot comprehend my perspective; it’s like emotional mathematics,
I see; feel; and hear them from every direction at once,
Loosely gathered but tightly drawn in some synchronized prayer,
Muscles taut with purpose and agenda,
They seem to be waiting but I’m an acolyte and know not the sign.
Steam from the nostrils; the pace of a lifetime, Manes suspended like the locks
of an angel,
No sense of urgency; yet emanate danger beyond horizon,
Am I the rider or just the witness of the going,
And they take on the wonder and capacity of the night time sky,
I feel immensely inferior and yet they look to me, Is it symbol; allegory;
or is this just another life mocking dream,
Or maybe they want to lead me to the dream waking dawn.
Dream of seven horses,
And they are swallowing the night.
So peaceful as they start to slowly move across the haunted landscape,
And I move with them; some unseen force propelled,
Weightless and suffering-unknown; I am the eye of time,
Lost in the fluidity of their intrinsic motion; the meaning is bated along,
And I know everything; I see everything; yet there is only static motion,
No destination is implied; no direction is emptied.
Suddenly at full gallop; they make the light catch up,
And I am waken and left with only wonder and decay.