by Linda Ann Nickerson

Created on: July 09, 2008

PLAYING H-O-R-S-E
(Tankas of Truth)

How we doubt His heart,
Honoring much lesser gods,
Human-bound ideals.
Horses freely lead us home,
Holding high the simplest truth.

Ordinary, not.
Obviously, Heaven-sent.
Our Creator's gift.
Out of His own hand, they run
Off without a stumbling step.

Reason beckons us,
Rationing our deep desire,
Ruining the dream.
Regardless, we plunge onward,
Racing past delight to joy.

Somehow, promise pours,
Stimulating both of us,
Steed and humankind.
Saddle up for higher call,
Sprinting for sunset and rest.

Everything else fades,
Easing into nothingness.
Evermore, we fly.
Each outing erases doubt.
Equines confirm God's great love.

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