Colors changed as we raced,
The hoofs pounding through damnation,
No one stopping,
The speed increasing
As the terrible clods poured
Skyward, the filtered air like
So many kaleidoscopic mirrors,
Horses moving in slow motion,
The brain not willing to close its eyes.
Fear grasped the throat like a comical
Sword fight, no one willing
Nor stumbling on thought,
Just on and on, the excitement ranged,
Mud-splattered faces enforcing the charade.
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