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my white pony is wild and skittish
but faithful and dependable
when, by the cool crystal spring
i sit gathering the strength of the mountain
she nuzzles my neck and urges me to ride

we ride like the wind blows, pure joy
to the bright village and back again
content to return to the greater spirits of our valley
here, we can make the rocks sing
and with the dancing grass commune

what does the dancing serve to prove
but god's existence in the spheres
whose reason grows with universal applause
all the love that flows in hearts turn gold
and gild the gates of heaven
I_ArtMan 2005