By Pavel Chichikov
Run my chestnut, run my gelding
No rein can keep you in or tame
Your impetus, no hesitation
In your stride, go in God's name
But where in heaven's title were we
Now so quiet, tepid cold
Not cold enough for such a height –
Where is the Earth's face manifold?
The chestnut stopped and I dismounted
Dropped the reins – he grazed on grain
That fell from warm condensing clouds
Like oaten pellets dropped as rain
They pattered down and then they ceased
A field of darkness, dense and still –
I heard a voice imperious
And yet conceding to my will
‘You've come here sometimes in a dream
But more awake than in the day –
Now I tell you – stay awake
Though in a sleep you seem to be
‘Do not withdraw until I give
Permission, though you're free to go,
The horse will take you when you wish –
Wake or sleep, ride high or low
‘There is an era to begin
More quickly than this horse can run
Now oncoming from the east –
See the shoulder of the sun
‘Mount and ride, mount and ride
To meet the new sun – light ascends –
Now throw your leg across its round,
Vault it where it burns and stands'
‘But how to grip the stamping sun
Or strap the girths and reins of fire?'
‘You must ride the burning One
If ever, human, you ride higher'
The Shoulder of the Sun Part Three will be featured tomorrow.
To visit Pavel Chichikov's website click *here*
(photo: Pavel Chichikov)
