He kicked a rock that wouldn’t move, same as every other day, Sun beating the flat like it had a grudge to pay. Then she came barreling sideways out of a heat shimmer lie, All teeth and tangle, pure refusal in her eye. He didn’t think. Just grabbed mane like it owed him something back. She took off with the whole damn world still attached. Muscle and madness decided which bones it would break. The ground turned foreign under four legs that answered to none. Every mile stripped the reasons he thought he’d won. She ran like the land had a joke it was finally telling, Left him laughing ugly, guts full of nothing worth selling. They tore through scrub that scratched secrets into his skin, Past rusted trucks and graves of men who thought they could win. Dirt did what dirt does best Swallowing plans, spitting out whatever was left. She bucked at the echo of his own useless pride, Made him taste the raw size of being along for the ride. Hours or years, he couldn’t say which, time got chewed up and gone, Till the only thing real was her breath and the beat of going on. The blunt truth of meat and bone hit hard, A man and a horse proving the world don’t throw you a throne. Wire and wind cut straight through the lie. She finally slowed where the sky touches down on the dirt, Dropped him off smaller, meaner, strangely alert. He stood there watching her melt back into the blur, Knowing some doors only open when you stop looking for her. Boots back on ground that felt brand new and ancient all the same. He walked different. The rock still wouldn’t move. But now he smiled when he kicked it.
