Wild Horses

I hear the wild horses call.
Grace is their tongue,
Silence is their speech.
They speak only with thunder
against the clean, soft earth.
Here they are found.
Here they are free.
And while my heart is with them,
my body cannot stay.
But I look to the West
and pray them welcome,
if ever they can be tamed.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback