And in the evening,
we sit and ponder,
All the beautiful
that have graced
Embarked upon a new beginning.
I was met with wild horses who whispered in my ear
Be still my child for life will flow the way it needs to. And you,
Will know the right from the wrong. You will blaze your own trail upon Stallions and sunsets. Ancients sat here once, high within the mountains, viewing these same views. The tones and half tones and pixelated peaks and canyons. Yellow at most high, about seven o'clock, reflections as far as the eye can imagine and peaks refracting grays and blacks into the frame. Seven layers deep I sit and appreciate. Green at the base with succulent peaks in the horizon. Horses eating hay beneath with wild inklings. A run for your money, if only, a lifetime to achieve. Every tree cut with a purpose of lined roads or guides so you know which way to go. No waste of the stump, always used for greater purpose. Each rock placed perfectly, a primal reminder of the dust we must turn to.