The Carnival
When a young child,
I feared the presence
Of the automatic horses
On the merry go round.
I ran away from the splendor
Of fun most children,
Would happily embrace.
How strange now then, that
I now approach
Another ride that lies
Within the vehicles of light.
And I get on a horse,
That isn't a horse at all.
But a carrier,
On a ride
That called me forth.
I am at a carnival,
Surrounded by pure delights,
And also the thieves on every,
Corner of the place.
But I sit and ride
Quietly and apprehensive,
On the carrier,
That walks on beaches
That is no animal at all.
As the pressures push me
In different directions,
I stepped onto the platform
Of my ride
And somehow I'm not caught,
But am okay.
All thanks to the carrier
That goes in the chambers
Of love,
And made me a passenger
In His plan.
I rode and I was tired
But am okay,
Because of the support
Of the horse
That is no horse at all,
But a direct source,
And all I had to do
Was commend my trust
To my ride
And ask that I may have
The privilege
He so easily gives
To those who ask
To ride piggyback. age 19
Copyright Wendy Torres 1998