The Horse

In the quiet of the dawn, myths stir

the horses emerge from the mist

their breath a whisper of ancient tales

They tread on sacred ground

where stories weave through the earth

each hoofbeat a pulse of forgotten lore

The horse, a bridge between worlds

carries legends on its back

the weight of gods and heroes

its stride echoes in the chambers of time

In the stillness, beneath the surface

quests rise like morning fog

each one a reflection of the eternal

The Hero rides, not for glory

but to traverse the terrain of the soul

navigating shadows and light

guided by the timeless gaze of the steed

The earth stands firm below

finding its form in the horse’s steadfast grace

this is not a race

but a reminder of the power of cycles

of beginnings

and endings

Elle Drakopoulou