Impulse, impulse like a wild horse
is straining violently
threatening to drag me along
the rocks and thorns of the unknown paths

Control, the reins that have subdued it all this while
and blinkered my life with it
are at thread-bare point
and when that breaks, I can’t imagine what will happen

Fear, that which sits in the saddle
and holds the reins and wields the whip
And tries to make a lowly slave
of what was born beautiful and free

Instinct, the rightful rider
denied for so long
And yet has tagged along
quietly, gently whispering directions to the one on the saddle
and never saying “I told you so” when we got lost

All of the jamboree must travel with me
and a part of my merry caravan be
Each shall have a place in my universe
All that matters is that move
And everyone is carried along.

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