Dark Horse emerges from my dream. Mysterious, bewitching, revealing little while comprising much. I want to behold your countenance in real-time and not just imagine the cadence of your gait.
Weave my fingers through your mane. Look long into your ambiguous eyes that reflect secrets of ageless awareness. Wrap my arms around you as I rest along your back. Sync my breath with your breath and we breathe as one.
Dark Horse, won’t you emerge from my dream. Grace me with the reality of your existence, pure and unmistakable. Allow me to come close. Consent to the intimate rhythm of our being.