Clarity in Muddied Waters

A Messianic Journey Through Pen and Peace. Writing from the Stillness Within.

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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleam’d upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment’s ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From Maytime and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

Wild Horses

If you listen closely, you can hear them.

Gradually, the noise gets louder and louder, until their right in front of your eyes.

Horses.

Wild Horses.

Luscious manes loose and swept back by the wind, muscular legs pumping back and forth, large, innocent eyes, rimmed with thick lashes.

Surely this is true beauty.

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