Author:
† <strike>Castaway</strike> †
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Date Posted: 15:45:00 04/11/01 Wed
Author Host/IP: NoHost/24.66.94.142
† ..A glimpse into the mind.. †
*His hooves strike endlessly against the flat crest of earth, the screaming, protestant grains of dirt which he treads without thought, pressing the base of his hooves against them, a million deceased, lifeless, motionless, but for the eerie sherade of the winds which toss them airily about, lift them to lick at their assassins ankle, to wind up his muscled leg and grasp the creme locks of his tail, sinking their miniscule teeth into each strand, cutting it off from its life, its support, the locks strewn as the dirt had been, yet they had no hope of revival, no pact with the wind to leap upward and continue on the ceaseless war which would undoubtedly break out among them, the death of many more apparent, layn carelessly upon the hillocks and the trenches, death, the war which resembled, much, his strive to enter on into the land........... His taut neck arches slightly to support the shifting nature of his gaze, his vision falling upon the one before him, the scape, dotted in an endless ocean of lush grasses which lap seductively at him, calling, whining, whispering sweet words that might draw him to them, draw him to tear their lifefull forms from their roots, the price that they might have paid for their tease, eaten, deceased, as were the clods of dirt, the strands of his own tail, left in his wake, his body a tank, a vessel of war, pushing past each burden presented to him, layn out before him to disrupt him........ And so was his struggled enter into the land, plagued with constant disaster, end on end, as he trod, a thoughtless action, it was, to sift through the bush, the stalks, his thoughts remaining far off, on the things that bore him, taunted him, teased him........... He snorts in defiant rule over these things, these things which slowed his inevitable enter, his pace lifting as he draws on through the oceanic fields, the sappy jaune flora crashing against him, their petals falling, descending in the impact, the grasses following the same brought death, grasping annoyingly upon his heels, carried on and torn from their roots............. His chest pushes past all else in his way, a catcher 'pon a greuling train, his fore limbs pumping, rising, striking, an endless motion which never was to end, drawling on 'til all else dwindled, his figure leaping, grasping outward, a twist of his bod ending the swift, powerful plunge, his hooves grasping the rough earth beneath him, carrying him forward, pumping, rising striking, his chest puffed, taut, his neck sprung inward in anticipation of what would follow this, of what would become of the hot persuence which rose within him, bubbling in his veins, bursting in his mind, his heart throbbing pacedly, struggling to make sense of it all.......... These equines... Lashed about the earth, few sparse, few communed, set in clumps about, speaking words of such love, love which they would soon break, love which would bore them, cause them to leave the one to whom they had pledged, to meet their constant cravings for something new, for the excitement of one whom they might 'get to know' all over again, quenching their shallow, half-hearted needs.......... He snorts gently, the resonance tumbling upon his bridge, his forehead, caught in the locks of his ivory mane and caught in the clenching grasps of his lobes, his neck brought forth in accusation of his actions, his own shallow presumptions, for perhaps, somewhere, there was another, another who felt as he did, who thought as he thought, who shared his piece............... His body coils in near anticipation, an action, a movement, so near that he could smell its presence as the winds rolled back along his tongue, taste it for a moment, until the sample disappeared within the heaving gape of his lungs....... At long last, he releases the energy within him, springing upward to meet the rush of the winds which opposed him, the wry, haught forces which screamed in prevailing protest at his accusations, doubling their mighty forces, tumbling against his chest in constant streams......... His hind lay securely lashed to the bed of verdant grasses, his hooves slicing, thrashing, pounding against the wind in fought victory, never ceasing, nor waning, the locks which line his crested neck rising up in immediate uproar, opposing the winds which surround him, now, enveloping his entirety in its force, crawling inward and sucking the very breath from his lungs....... Yet he continues on... He was but a colt, he had all of the time in the world..... The time, the time to find the other, the other as him........................*
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