Passion

Green and brown of life surrounds us on all sides. I hang half out of the saddle as I dodge and slip around the treacherous leaves reaching to slather their itching rash oil onto my skin. I slide back into my saddle never loosing balance as my horse carefully trots down the path slipping past twigs and branches as water flows around a rock in a stream. The end is not of thought, nor is the begining, because this is just about us. We are one and yet two. We are a team once again. THIS is my passion. There is no other word for it. My passion. To ride. Not the little steps and dances that competions ask of us. There is no agility to those. Cross country in the hrose world is nice manicured tracks with brush jumps and ramps. It is not true cross country. It is not the pony express. Its not a boy riding fast as the wind to get to his mother's side. It is not the tale of a knight riding his one true companion to be by his lady's side long hard war. I want to be put through real tests. I don't want to ride for endurance. I want to come upon obsticals and jump them as if I were jumping the moon. I want to push my talent to its limit! I want to show the world what a horse really can do.