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Tuesday, April 1, 2025

Horse Of Texas Wind

Horse Of Texas Wind
© Surazeus
2025 04 01

When wild wind of Texas becomes the horse 
who brings me apple of eternity, 
I learn to flow with her elegant grace 
as she revives pure spirit of the plains 
where hearts of our ancestors enrich soil 
from which our children spring to dance and sing. 

Bones of our ancestors molded from milk 
form rugged landscape of our aching hearts 
where ghosts of dinosaurs with rainbow feathers 
still wander streets of quiet country towns 
to guide me as I ride sturdy-framed bike 
past fragile homes where faceless people pray. 

Contemplating mystery of the Glow Cloud, 
I lean against trunk of the apple tree 
to wonder why I feel so far from home 
since I sit still at center of my heart 
while my mind crosses timeless distances 
to shore of the lake where my soul was born. 

I live in time-wound spinning of the Earth, 
connected to each age of human life 
by reading stories written long ago 
that weave tapestry of dramatic scenes 
where I play role of bold protagonist 
in grand narrative of spiritual growth. 

With confident voice of the mockingbird, 
that dwells in heaven of the pecan tree, 
I sing about the nameless souls of Earth 
who flicker by on timeless stage of hope 
as transient flames of conscious innocence 
so I will remember them till I die. 

Before I cry beneath the broken branch, 
lone wanderer detached on signless road 
far from ancestral homeland of Star Lake, 
the horse of Texas wind teaches me how 
to repair the butterfly wings of faith 
so I can dance with the graceful tornado. 

Only the raven remembers the poem 
I scribble on the frosted window pane 
to translate light of the arrogant moon 
with subtle nuance of challenging tricks 
in words that humans invent in despair 
to communicate thoughts they fear to speak. 

Riding my bike in the small country town, 
I transform into horse of Texas wind 
so I can sing about beauty of love 
with abstract metaphor of fallen angels 
who disappear in flash of light on water 
when I realize I can fly with word wings. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus paints cubist portrait of the poet as a young man in the small country town in Texas where his horse is the wind personified.

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