THE HORSE STRIDES as Thunder,
MADE FLESH.&. BREATH a STORM IN THE COLD AIR
"BORN OF @WONFLINT" 🔫
ㅤㅤㅤㅤHere we gather by the old trail’s bend,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤwhere spurs whisper andstories linger.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤNot of noise, but of grit and grace,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤa wonflint born ofrawhidesouls.
when the earth still remembers iron and the wind speaks in broken tongues, a lone figure moves against the dark, seeking neither mercy nor praise. the horse strides as thunder given flesh, breath rising like storm-smoke in the cold air; each step strikes the ground as judgment, each echo a vow never spoken. hands hardened by silence hold the reins as one holds fate not to command, but to endure while scars unseen lie etched beneath bone, carried forward without lament.
ㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤNEVER ／ TURNED BACK.
no banner flies and no hymn is sung, only the creak of leather, the low growl of hooves, and the truth earned by motion alone. the land does not yield, nor is it asked to; between beast and man stands an unspoken pact to move as one, or not at all. when dawn finally bleeds into the sky, it finds the figure still upright, still riding,
bearing the weight of every mile endured and the quiet pride of one who never turned ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤth' horse knows the way home
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤhrough dust &. silence
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ