The wind talked to me first.
Incessantly, always the wind
came running and pointed
to the Sun.
The soil grew on me, bit by bit,
its ancient life, with all its
breeding strength, grew
in woods, petals and flowers.
And the Sun kept my woods
warm,
made my leaves lay in mirth
under his brightness.
The Sun made my sinews
draw all strength in them,
to reach what the Wind
told.
I spread my wings toward the
Sun,
and soared my soul toward light.
My legs were full of blood,
my hoofs hit the soil with
might and will,
my arms reached out for love.
I could not stand still,
for I had heard the trumpet.
You will find me toward the Sun still.
Sans my leaves and petals
but not without glory or beauty,
not without my sinewy arms still
reaching for the light,
oozing life, oozing frenzied love.
For I had loved.
