- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Horse Dream ( the long version)
All I can see for miles in front of me is waist-high green clover slowly waving in the breeze. Like sheaves of wheat it sways back and forth in a hypnotic dance. The sky is intensely azure blue, devoid of summer clouds. The scent of freshly- tilled dirt permeates from the edge of the field where I stand and I relish the smell, inhaling deeply. That fresh, earthy-sweet aroma clears my head, my thoughts. Standing by my side is my companion, a powerful jet black stallion with no saddle or bridle. He nickers softly at me, bowing his head, he nudges my leg as if to say "let’s go." I swing onto his wide back and we ride for hours as one, our souls entwined, galloping through the clover in slow motion. I can feel his every stride, his muscles rippling against my legs, every lunge of his shoulders matching the recoil of his muscular hindquarters. My hands, my whole body is charged with equine energy. I hear his hooves thunder against the ground below like rhythmic drum beats. I squeeze my thighs tight against his flanks and grip handfuls of thick coarse black mane in my fingers. I ride looking for peace of heart, galloping, galloping endlessly towards the horizon.
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