"Political language... is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind" -- George Orwell
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Restored
by wisp Wednesday, Oct 14 2009, 8:27am
international /
prose/poetry /
literature
'Clara' by Rone
Equine
In times of great pain my faithful steed appears
cut from agonising darkness her bright whiteness rears;
hooves flailing at the night sky, nostrils flaring as she frantically whinnies, urging me to mount.
Like a wounded Mongol Khan I grasp her flowing mane, whip myself onto her bare back and cling on for dear life; my head pressed hard against her neck.
With one mighty rear and kick we are gone from this place in an instant; I am soon lost in her rhythmic motions and swirling eyes – vortices that put galaxies to shame.
With a click of her magic hooves we span light years gathering shattered pieces of my life and yours, slowly re-absorbing/re-integrating existence for yet another round or turn of the wheel.
Before dawn I find myself back in my terrestrial abode; my sturdy mare uneasily pacing, impatient to return to our secret garden in paradise.
I dismount and she is gone like a comet in the warm night sky.
Restored and reinvigorated -- the air continues to shimmer and pulse with her presence.
Amy Winehouse - Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow
Lou Reed - Perfect Day
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