Life has strife and grief beneath its sheath of growth and teeth of both an oath for truth and trembling youth that calls my path to alter. A sleuth would start to falter: I bolted from the halter revolting jolts with stilted faults when wilting vaults cast out The Stranger. Danger changed my manger. Arranged until deranged, estranged, exchanged a different wager. I disappeared. Steering clear appearing near a weary jeered asylum, sheared there and smeared with shame. Weird for years, drowned in tears, commandeered by fears, I veered through guards who charred and scarred my soul. And yet I persevered. Walking out one day the rays reclaimed my fate. A weight of hate was lifted. I shifted when the horses began to breathe a-near me. Rearing love and light a state of righteous passage. They heal the damage salvaging a voyage where flashbacks are not torturous but fortunate, nurturing, opening. I grope for this connection and feel it through the reins. His scope gives hope, we cope and reap, leaping to the sunrise. I have the bug. I will plug on and on. The drug that tags my soul says time is mine when e’er I ride. The horses are my company, accepting my incumbency professional redundancy and need to call them home. I’ve grown. They will support me, thoughtfully they’ve taught me a sport that ought to hold me. Boldly we go forward. Sold to them I pledge my core to wedge the raw and inner score, with more and more attention. Back now in contention.