One with the land,
one with the sky.
Atop of his horse,
he seems to fly.
His long raven hair
flows with the breeze.
With a handful of mane
he rides with ease.
Across the prairies,
through canyons of stone.
Over mountains and desert,
just he and his roan.
It sounds like thunder,
building up from the land.
And a cloud of dust trails
from dirt and from sand.
Both of them glisten
with sun sweating sheens.
Moving so swiftly
through valleys and ravines.
Bronze, muscled legs
cling to bronze, muscled horse.
As they travel for miles
of undetermined course.
Legend has it said,
that history is his guider.
He rides to be free...
a free Spirit Rider.
This is wonderful!
This is wonderful!
Starward