Like an Ass he led me
That thick souled spirit
Really acts the nag
I would run him on the mountains
Mingled among mustangs and clouds
But he'd rather in the muddy wadis roam
Yet he carries me well enough
And tramples on the serpent's head
Once he's had his fill of clover
Open air, meadow, flower and stream
Only once broken does he do his master's bidding
Otherwise his backward glance condescends to offer
A bellicose Neigh above the thunderous gallup
Whereas I am left to choke on the dust
Laughing and cursing that which is quixotic,
Unbridled and an utterly human condition
A working out of the process of balance
The struggle of life and character
Whether to tear at the wind with the thoroughbreds,
Run with the mustangs,
Pull the plow with the farmer
Or just sit like an ass.
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