Can life be compared to the journey of a silk-road horse?
“Horses were preparing for this journey from the very beginning of time.”
As I sip the golden waters of my Tibetan tea, I try to focus on the eternal Milky Way or forgotten Silk Road. Caravans of cosmic animals, following one another, carrying exotic precious tech, across the universal lifeless plains. This tradition continued since the days of the black-eyed tired horse, that looked up towards the punctuated, colored night sky, wishing for the break from this life-burning journey.
At that moment, the invisible tube of emotion constructed channel link between the creature of the Earth and space flowing horse. Understood each other, although the color of the eye is different, although the sound of cry is distant. Pain unites, contrasting anatomy between them but a single monumental desire to prove, that despite the bleeding scar on the back, that despite the ear-melting curse, or blinding interdimensional whisp, they will finish the journey until the very bitter-sweet end.
Horses were preparing for this journey from the very beginning of time. They were carefully selected by the white fiber mantle-wearing spirits, or just expanded jelly of connected fragments, called sound adrift. That journey was a celestial fashion show, where all the creatures have a moment to shine in front of the community of living beings.
Universal celebration when the winner is selected, be it lava-drinking, middle-aged, budget making, twelve-hour shift slaving, tentacle bearing, oyster riding cowboy of the planet Hat-P-7b, where it rains sapphires or Miss universe from small island in the Philippines.
As I finish my Tibetan tea, I see why the mountains speak in the East. I almost understand why the sound of a ticking clock is dreamier up there. The air of mountains is very thin, changing flow of oxygen into the brain, projecting vision so different from ours, separated thought felt better when closer to the stars of the sky than in depths of the poisoned ground.