Wind Horse

The Wind Horse come, whisper of prayer...ten million flags a flying, blown by the breath, to a tattered rag, from the lungs of god in heaven. Hear his thundering hoof beats pound, saddled and set to leap, from off the stair, to the halls of air, on wings of a trillion strong. These angels, flame...their footlights, mark the hidden, pathway home...to Atlantis gold, a secret hold...where a priesthood hid the bone.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016,  Deming, New Mexico

Photo Credit:  chronicleproject.com, Riding The Wind: The culture of Wind Horse