The Wild Horse

What strange peculiarities
thoughts are,
like the wild horse,
how unpredictable,
constantly changing,
like the sky, the wind,
the seasons,
all coming, all going,
all lovely in their own
rightful way of being,
with mood, emotion,
feeling as I do,
unquestionable,
without reason,
and how joy comes
so unexpectedly
through the doorway,
like the face
you always knew.

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