Were I to pursue my dreams,
They would become wild horses,
Fleeing from bit and bridle,
Fleeing swift-footed
Across the plains of my desire.
Were I to stay in stillness
Beside a sweet spring
In some half-hidden glade,
Would they come to me
All hot-breathed and trembling?
Were I to offer up my hand
Without the bit and bridle,
Would one stay stock still
And let me, forsaking the saddle,
Slide in trust along her back?
Were I to shape my self to her,
Faithful to her grace,
Would she fly sure-footed
To the far mountains
Of our beginnings?
©artvaughan
11 June 2014
