Near the waters on a night of a million stars,
Reflected both on heaven and earth,
The great beast lies content by the oasis.

The dusty black-bay sahib mused on these verses as he made his trek across the desert, the wasteland that was the happy home of his rebirth. The virile was not born here, though he was told his ancestors roamed as a tribe of the sands. Following an unplanned turn of events, he had come to the desert not so many years before. She became his teacher, and he her willing student. He had come close to death before he came to a realization in the graceful solitude of her scape that there was far more to achieve than death alone. Rejuvenated and born again, Sarim called the desert his mistress, his solace, his comfort, his peace. He had dwelled in the far corners away from where tribes roamed and civilizations built their kingdoms, but he had dreamt of things…things lost and things to be had, and his mistress bade him to take up his yoke and return to the world of noise and chaos. His exile completed, it was a time to start a new.

The smell of equines and blood hit him like a wave and he stopped in the distance atop a dune that allowed him to see over several dunes. He could see no one yet, but the wind brought tellings. Smoothly sculpted ears raised to the heavens above that were dark and littered with heavenly diamonds. His eyes moved from the dust-laden earth to the star-laden heavens and a smile formed on his lips. There was little beauty to compare to the one million glistening stars, that still numbered countless to the East and West and to the North and South. That was no telling what destiny was in store for him, or how he might attempt to shape it and the stars looked on from high above in the graceful silence the desert offered him. He was aware he was no longer in his own isolated sanctuary but nearing (if not already within) the dwelling of another. With a snort, the virile pressed onwards.

…

There came a place where shrubby little trees found some sustenance and sprouted. Surely here would equines choose to roam, for would not life choose to be near other life? The same could not be said for the desert-born, the true desert-born and for Al-Sarim. The brute was aware he might not be readily welcomed should he parade in like a fool. He likewise was aware that the desert-born were a proud line, which could prove another obstacle for him. It was a good thing he was no fool, though the latter could prove to be an obstacle and required that he tread carefully. He came to a stop looking out to what was still emptiness. He could see figures dotting the sands here and there now. He waited, noticing a figure or two closer to where he remained. He called out softly, lowering his head mildly, waiting to see who might see to the stranger at the door.

WORDS: 523
MUSE: Rockin!
TAGS: A’idah || OPEN
=================================================
Stallion. Anglo-Arabian x Andalusian x Akhal Teke. Seven Years. Dark Bay. 16.2hh. Dark Brown Eyes

vnes