As Ever Like the Sun & Moon at War

1- ☼☼ ☼☼

not only with concern for his own sake,               50

but worries now, as well, about this horse,

for he is not experienc'd in how

to handle stallions efficiently;

he worries over how to stay ahead

whilst also riding not this horse to death,

which surely would conclude in getting caught

and too would weigh upon his conscience guilt

for ending life unnecessarily

of his new steed who carries him away

from this impending danger close behind.             60

Idea comes to him so that he'll know

how he should treat this horse to keep its health:

he'll glance toward the bandits time to time

observing when they slow their pace to save

the mounts their energy in order that

he may still reach a town before they catch

and lock him up again, which likely would

result in even worse a treatment than

receiv'd before in first captivity.

But even with this plan that he hath hatch'd             70

his bleeding heart is crying out to him,

as list'ning to his horse's labour'd breath

decides for him to let it have a rest

by slowing down to trot despite the band

who canter still behind without a care

for how their steeds must sound beneath their seats

and what those sounds must indicate of how

the strain'd equines must labour at this pace.

But still he glances nervously to them,

admitting to himself experience              80

belongs to them—not him—thus they would know

the pushing that these horses can sustain,

and so he gallops anxiously again,

but heavy breathing doth resume below;

this huffing causes him a heavy heart

and weighs an iron guilt upon his mind

so that again he ends the suffering

and even here dismounts from saddle's seat

to jog beside the horse instead of ride

upon its back, where he must start to weigh               90

despite the power even of this beast,

who is expected by humanity

to carry burdens for their benefit

without a way to ask the animal

when too much weight is ask'd of them to bear,

or when too long hath pass'd without repose;

and certainly there are equestrians

who understand its capabilities,

but Pilgrim isn't one of these savants

and neither—so he guesses—are these men             100

who chase behind him fervently and don't

suppose their steeds will soon collapse beneath

their masses. Or he doth so place his faith.

However—though benevolent is he

in treatment of his steed compar'd to them—

our Pilgrim's gain'd upon by bandits' chase,

who run their horses ragged with the deed

of hunting him in singular pursuit;

and soon they ride behind his heels hot,

and by the eve they've pull'd him off the horse            110

and collar'd him to pull behind the van,

which now they trot to force him into jog

or otherwise be dragg'd along the rocks

that spike the road of dirt and sand that's pack'd,

and once they're close upon the next of towns,

the road they take is fork'd away toward

a distant monolith they call their base

atop a mesa's height of weather'd stone;

a home for them—a prison for our man.                         119