Desire Is Destiny

The foghorn sounds in the mysterious

mists.. a lonely call for his mate.

The train whistles

beckon to our desire.

The sea sings to the shore.

In Siberia snow falls soundlessly.

In a world beyond time

Horses' hooves on cobbled stones,

the crash of the cataract,

the boom of the ocean,

the cheerful babbling of the brook,

.. the first trill of absolute joy

from a predawn bird.. a trill

which is a sword to

Dracula's night curtains.



First and last, God is in our

ears.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

It is now thank God
a rare thing when
horses harm their forelegs
on missing cobbles...

yet they are still
gored in bullfights,
burned in stable fires,
caged in stables,
killed in horse racing
slaughtered for horse
flesh

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