White Horses

I was shocked when I saw I had sprouted some wings;
all at once I felt like Pegasus, of all things.
Iridescent with power to lift me on high;
with these magical wings I could suddenly fly.

So I spread out my wings to assess every part;
in the glow of the sun I saw rainbow light start.
Then as colors unfolded in rays of the sun,
like a rider and horse, wings and I were as one.

O so soft were my wings--such delight I can’t feign!
They reminded me much like a horse’s fine mane.
And the wings had a rhythm along with such grace;
with such power perhaps they were tapping subspace.

There I was in a gallop traversing the air;
I had no destination, but I didn‘t care.
I was lord of creation with flight at my will;
with my newfound physique I was lost in the thrill.

I looked down as I flew over river and road,
and I got a great sense how the pace of life flowed.
I saw eagle and cattle and hedgehog and horse--
on the power of wings I adjusted my course.

It was rather on instinct, this course that I flew;
on such mystical wings I flew steady and true.
It is often good fortune that destiny brings;
I was home when I saw the white horses with wings.


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