It
was fast and beautiful, a ballet of thunder in motion.
Hot,
sweaty bodies, flexing muscles, each step a new drama.
For
them, no emotion, no love, no hate, no envy, or greed.
Extended
power in their strides revealed a burst of freedom: a living for
the moment.
For
us there was excitement, anticipation and lust for glory in the
air.
It
was beautiful in a wicked sort of way.
We
can’t resist the cheers, as though our voices could possibility
change destiny. Rained
poured from the skies, mud clung to the legs, redressing them
before our eyes, while we were focused on home – win, place or
show.
It
mattered to us, maybe to them as well, but we’ll never really
know.
People
screamed with delight as they approached, again urging destiny to
bend and obey their will. They could sense victory in the making,
but whose? I wasn’t sure.
The
ground shook as they thundered by and I heard a voice cry, “I
Love That Horse!” And, I wondered … what he would have said
had it lost?
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