Contemplations

Oh, I feel terrible,
Absolutely horrible.
Letting her run off like that...
I saw something leave when she turned her back.
Not literally, but something else;
It was like she lost all confidence in herself.
Harrowed hollow;
Lonely sorrow.
I hope I find her before tomorrow...

The night is dark;
Atmosphere bleak,
Hopefully I'll find her if I seek.
Garner a peep?
No such hope;
The forest is deep into a lumbering sleep.
My hooves on the path,
I should keep.

Treading carefully,
Don't want to slip on something steep;
Land myself in a heap.
Leaves rustle, but the limbs are bare;
My mind grips at things that aren't there.
That I saw something, I could definitely swear...

The moonlight's gaze,
Allows me to quicken my pace.
The trees seem to move out of my way;
The air is still;
Yet they gently sway.
I feel the trees prying eyes,
Who knows where their loyalty truly lies?
All I know is that not accepting their boon,
Would aid in my demise;
Inevitable doom.

I prick my ears to what's up the way,
Cold-hearted whimpers from something with nothing left to say;
Does it forebode ill? It may...
The shallow words still pierce the air;
Only to speak a tale of despair.
Death lurks the area around that mare,
Urging her to end it all,
Should she dare.

All of a sudden her head jolts upwards;
The thousand yard stare piercing forwards.
Jumping up from her seat,
Her 'fate' she hastens to meet;
Without warning, she takes the leap.

"WAIT!" Too late?
I'm suddenly overly awake,
Jumping toward her wake;
All my weight pushing forward,
To the cliff edge I must make.

Time slowed down;
I sprint forward without a sound;
The forest waits on bated breath,
Willing me to catch her,
Before she hits the ground.

The cliff face I meet,
Before her free-fall is complete.
Good, I'm not too late...
No time to think, the ground draws nearer;
I illuminate the forest in magic's mystical light;
Pulling her from my sight.

She reappears by my side,
Her eyes shut, keeping in the tide.
Emotion gone; tears gone from the fray,
Only her mane sways;
The forest lets out a breath;
She is saved from her grief.
And on the ground she does lay,
Unconsciousness keeps her away.

Her breaths are shallow,
But she will live to see tomorrow.
Dare I get near her?
I feel as though she's almost like a petal.
Fragile, she might whither.
Or a pane of glass;
If I touch her, she might shatter across the grass.

I'll use my magic then...
Once more the forest is lit by my horn;
I lift her silently,
Careful not to wake her peaceful form.
Perhaps she has disregarded her painful thorn?

We turn our backs on the foreboding crack,
Robbed of it's life to sack.
The forests calm; wild air has returned,
It's whims are probably something we'll never learn...
Still... today's events require study in turn...

If anything, today's philosophy requires mention.
The short; fragile form of life deserves careful contemplation...