A horse began trotting toward the lavender fields, following the feeling that had been quietly growing inside. Soon the trot became a gallop. The fields opened before him, purple and endless, and the horse ran through them with nothing holding him back.
No fence.
No force.
Nothing other than the incredible feeling of flying.
He ran simply because he could.
He ran because there was somewhere else to be.
He ran because, for once, he wanted to see what was beyond.
Eventually the day softened into evening. The horse had traveled far, and it was time to sleep. Along the river he found a little cove, tucked away from the open landscape. It was quiet and sheltered, with the sound of water moving gently beside him.
He rested there for the night.
When morning came, he woke to a beautiful sunrise.
The river caught the first light. The lavender fields seemed to glow, and the horse stood up ready for another day of adventure.
And what an adventure it was.
He wandered. He trotted. He galloped. He followed the river and crossed through fields, discovering the world one beautiful place at a time.
Then, all of a sudden, he could feel a storm.
The air changed.
The sky began to gather itself.
The horse knew.
He turned around and headed back toward the cove, just as the first thunder cracked across the sky.
The rain poured.
It came down hard, covering the fields and turning the river silver. But the horse was safe and dry inside his little cove.
There was nowhere he needed to go.
So, unexpectedly, it was time for a nap.
And he slept through the storm.
When he woke, everything was transformed.
The rain had passed, and the world was glowing with that strange, tropical, post-storm gorgeousness. The air was warm and fresh. Everything was wet and shining. The river moved quietly beneath a sky beginning to melt into evening.
And then came the sunset.
Purples.
Blues.
Pink and gold disappearing slowly into one another.
The horse stepped out of the cove and looked across the landscape.
Then he began to gallop.
He galloped through the melting sunset, his body moving freely through the evening air. The sky above him seemed almost alive.
It looked like a jazz orchestra.
Every cloud was an instrument. Every color was a different sound. The blues stretched into long melodies, the purples answered, and the last flashes of sunlight seemed to play little accents across the horizon.
The horse kept galloping.
There was no fence.
No force.
Only the incredible feeling of flying.
And somewhere beyond the lavender fields, beyond the river, beyond the sunset, the horse galloped beyond.
Cheval Lavande