My Winged Horse

We fly high, my winged horse and I, When troubles and tears won’t let me be. Over the mountains across the sea, traveling for days my winged horse and me.

Out of the pit so deep dirty and dark above the grief away from the woe.There are no limits to where my winged horse goes.

We visit times past and the prospectives yet to be We visit desire, hope and my castle of dreams. Soon troubles are conquered or vanquished, it seems.

She has traveled with me through all my years, Transporting me through life’s vale of tears. She has shared my existence both good times and bad. Cheered my days when all seemed lost and sad.

When humanity fails me she is always there, though sometime wearied she’s both steady and true. She is fed and groomed with the utmost of care. My companion my beauty my winged mare.

Some call her name essence or spirit I call her my soul. On a daily basis its her assignment to keep me whole. When life threatens to bend me to my knees, She nudges me softly and whispers “lets fly if you please.”

So off we fly, my soul and I. Leaving this planet far behind. We wander to places existing only in fantasy or in my mind. Grazing on yesterdays and laughing at here and now. She drinks from tomorrow’s cup and finds courage to continue on , somehow.

by Misty Orlove

Thanksgiving 1997

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Hope and strength come in many forms and in varied ways

harvest it where you may

in order to face life each new day.

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