The Stallion

An ethereal voice beckons the mighty steed
From the south he gallops in a gentle speed

Upon morning’s break he emerges from the shadows
Beneath a threshold he treads with trotting echoes

The mighty black stallion reveals his profile
To the one expecting, it takes a little while
He speaks none, but a smile he reveals
He touches yet shows not what he feels

The mighty black stallion with his mane so smooth
Bends down to quench his desire as he masks his truth
To the meager stream from where he drinks
Proceeds with his ways and secretly thinks

The mighty black stallion and his quiet disposition
Rests upon the grass and neighs his hidden emotions
For once, finally, he falls completely entranced
Now he waits and holds his majestic stance

The mighty black stallion seeks for his lost identity
In a place of peace and familiar tranquility
Feigned, unaffected he leaves without a trace
With no shame, no regrets, again, he hides his face

The mighty black stallion returns to the shadows
From where he came, silence replaces the echoes