Pony of Air

Written by none other than the legend lorepunk

Moors in heather, fields of emerald green
and dun. Salt tang, and dunes, and sea-borne wind
all touch my memories. Places l've seen,
returned to, as the seasons turn again
within their wheel. One midnight 1 awoke
and heard the call to run, just as before
I had. Somehow, the winter wind had spoke
to gravity, and opened up her door
to me. I stood and walked right through a breeze
just like a mountain trail. I looked below
at plain and river lined by barren trees
and stood a while. The places that I go,
so strange—no words describe what one finds there,
but every realm is touched by breaths of air.

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