Breathe, become something else.
Beating over soft sand.
Matching rhythm of the waves.
Becoming part,
of something,
better.
I fall into horse's neck,
bury my face in the mane
Only my eyes look between the ears
Not that I have to know
Where I'm going.
we breathe, last breath.
No more air, 'til the end.
Quick pace, beating the current.
Still racing the wind.
Just me and the horse,
beating odds
of what's against us.
wind, sand, water, salt
disappear.
All that exists is the rhythm
of our hearts
matching
rhythm of the run.
When will we breath again?
Not
Until
We
Run
Out
Of
Adventure...
By: Sara Sue Renee
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