Their Journey
My heart, it pounds, like wild drums,beneath my weary breast.
Within, the mustang, running free,
across the winding west.
My spirit soars, among the wind,
as the flute, it blows.
Flying high above the earth,
in searching as it goes.
The wild beat, and running horse,
and spirit in the sky,
need not wonder where they go,
or even ask of why.
Their journey runs, so deep, so strong.
Their searching, this is true.
Their only search, what gave them life.
They breath, because of you.
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