The rider

Pages they turn, and lines they are read,

There stands the bookmark, firm in it stead.

Banks they have broken and the river it has flow,

There stands the bridge strong in its stance, lasting and stern.

Waves break and tides they reach, every night and day,

There in the distance in its fray, the washed up sand lay.

Who is the hand that dog-ears the pages of old?

The rocks which hold the course foretold.

Who is the wave that breaks in the sandy disarray?

The winds of change are they in sway.

Riding the wind, the water and the earth,

The change of all things has been given birth.

Looking back at things that have been,

Gives hope to the fact that there lies a world unseen.

Striding towards this facet that seems so new,

Rides a rider forward; ahead with every slew.

Breathing a sigh to the horizon, the zenith calmly waves,

The fading signs of a horse gone by, the rider has gone a long way.

Sigmond on a horse, saddled and waving the cacti goodbye