Meandering Life

Molding the soul

is caused by many

things, some magnificent

some malicious

some mythopoeic

and for me, my soul

remembered the opportunity 

 gifted by mysterious fate

(as everything has

perfectly aligned to my

dream) to be with

my loves, the marvelous

horses that fill me

with such bliss,

such overwhelmingly perfect

bliss, that I can 

no longer ignore

the passion that

roars from my 

throbbing mirthful heart

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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