The Prayers of Horses

You were alive at another time, the horses around your bed.

You left it behind to go and receive the toxic poisonwood bread.

If you could turn back the clock and go to wherever God was born;

would there be a way to save the horses, what else could be done?

You saddled up the young mare and ran him until he ached,

you bargained for some energy with the creature that calculate

the time and place, the right and wrong. Is it hopeless and are they wrong?

The horses aren’t coming back, nothing can be done.

You’ve heard the young mare wailing out and the crying of the lord.

You’ve got doom around your neck and wrath by medieval swords.

Can you understand the question of dose and the horses’ withdrawal?

Can you get the horses back; something has to be done?

You walked in all exhausted and gambled for your dose

with wrists of iron cards and followed by Banquo’s ghost.

You’ll walk to the mare and watch as he takes your crown of thorns

praying for you to get the horses back; something has to be done.

It had been a week since you thought about the mare

with saddle on its back it sleeps through the night but stares

at you when you answer questions in your toxic brutal scorn.

The horses may never come back if you get nothing done.

Your destiny walks across hot coals and the mare was riding out

into the darkness of the sea with a sense of hopelessness and doubt.

You asked for his heart and soul and he gave you nothing but cold.

He’s gone to get the horses for something must be done.

The mare returned a time later with the creature on its back.

The creature rose with defiant looks and have you your saviour back.

You don’t even deny it much but there’s really nothing without love.

The horses aren’t coming back; is there nothing that can be done?

Now there’s a sea between you and the dreams have all been lost.

The horses may never return, you must accept it and move on.