She is marvelous. 

Her dark coat glistens with love, shimmers with brilliance.

Her eyes, dark with wonder, are brightened through learning.

And she moves. 

It is as if her legs know no limits. 

They are not truly a part of her.

They run, lifting and falling so gently, so passionately.

She must move with them when they pull, just as the waves must move with moon.

It is as if she is from the sea, and although she has left it, it still resides in her.

She is so fluid, every movement she makes is a resemblance of the current of energy she possesses.

Her muscles ripple with desire, tremble with expectation.

Life is within her.

Beauty, although on the surface, is truly found in her depths. 

And she loves.

She loves endlessly.

She swallows it up, demanding more.

Love can be poured into her without recognition of any difference in her capacity to contain it.

But the ocean does not truly possess her tides.

They come to her, but then she must set them free.

And so it must be between Avalon and I.

She is not mine, nor could she ever be.

I can be a part of her journey, 

a diving board into this great sea called life.

But once her hooves leave me, she is gone.

She is free.


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