Wild horses -
Untamed, full of spirit,
Roam upon lands with no horizons.

We used to live like this, once.

Breathing thunder,
Lighting our skies
with a fire that blazed with
a million points of light.

Now as you lay your head on stone,
learning to call exile home,
You’ve Lost That Wild Feeling.

With each compromise,
Each small surrender,
You traded your roars for whimpers.

The unlived life quickened the
Death Of The Singing Beast.

Disfigured under the light to belong;
Forty days have
Turned to forty years,
Chasing breadcrumbs.

You will never know.
The why.
And even if you did,
It would not help you.

All you gain is another night in the valley.

Down by the moonlit brook
that remembers Eden,
A dreamer’s call haunts the long nights
against the west winds.

“Where does your journey lead?”
Asked the Vale.

The shadow of what you ever dreamt to be responds:
“I am lost”.

 “Fear not”, said the Valley.
“The wilderness did not forget you. 

When you fell with the weight of the mountains,
The dust bore witness
And the ground held you. 

The wilderness you tread knows where you are.

Listen to the wild. 

Voiced by the beaks of the wrens,
She calls you.
And to where one calls you,
there you are always found. 

Child of the untamed,
Rider of the East Wind,
Drawn out of the waters of Eden,
You are known.
You are kept”. 

With the only words
Strong enough to hold your truth,
You answer the Vale:

“Glory be the
Titan In The Vale”.