Song of the Painted Wind

Song of the Painted Wind In the hush where starlight learns to breathe, A horse of night moves through blue fire. Gold remembers the paths of elders etched along muscle and mane, each line a prayer carried forward by hooves that know the old names of earth. Its eye holds the circle— time folding back into itself, river into sky, sky into seed. We listen, and the wind listens too. as the painted spirit passes, leaving courage in the dust and a promise braided into the dark.