The Unbridled Mind

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 Thoughts tumble like leaves in the wind,
unruly and scattered along the path,
while I grip the reins,
steadying a creature tethered to instinct.
A dance between the two of us,
each surge beneath the saddle, a question unanswered.

I ask myself, on this familiar track,
Why does my mind so quick to turn its back?
Why do I think unnecessarily,
as the world rushes by in a blur of green and gold?
Do the reins pull tighter when my mind wanders?
A silent language, a signal to the horse, unseen yet felt
in every heartbeat. Does the mind know the running horse I touch,
or is it lost and feeling far too much?

The thunder of hooves could drown me,
but the sounds mix and dissolve
in a haze of self-inflicted noise.
I see the blurred trees, but I do not see.
The hoof beats behind, they do not reach me.
A journey of the eyes, a vacant stare.
What is it about travel that fills my mind with static,
a rattle of discontent that silences the song of freedom?
Is it the weight of expectation? The gravity of being?

Journeys stretch before me,
long and winding as a river bent on forgetting,
and I feel the stirrings of agitation,
as if each stride draws me farther
from a destination I can’t define,
chasing shadows instead of sights,
leaving behind whispers of what was,
and drowning in the pulse of what might be.

Where am I going, on this hollow ride?
What is this path, with no one by my side?
What does the horizon promise—
a whisper of purpose, an illusion of control?
Am I the rider or just another ghost
lost in this wild gallop,
painting the air with questions,
tailing the dust of my own thoughts?

The bridle is a fragile thread,
binding me, yet I wonder,
does my touch say more than I intend?
Do I know the rhythm of its steps
or am I simply a passenger,
lost in the weave of fate and instinct,
gazing at the world without truly seeing?
The path twists, a ribbon through my mind,
and I search for signs of who awaits—
a figure in the distance, a promise held close.

But the answer eludes me, taunting,
as I ride onward,
a silhouette against the sunset,
with nothing but the clatter of hooves
and the fading roar of thoughts that once filled the air.
In this solitude,
as I press down on the reins,
I feel the horse's strength,
a reminder of untamed spirit,
and together, we forge ahead,
wrapped in the mystery of the journey,
searching for that which makes sense,
as the road unfolds beneath us.
I learn to listen,
not just to the gallop of these four hooves,
but to the quiet solitude
whispering between our heartbeats.

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