Another horizon

Always there is another horizon to climb up to, a further slope to ascend, a summit to breast. There is a high rugged tree to rest beneath, my back exploring the knots and ridges of its trunk. There is grass for my beast who is forever hungry, a good thing as a greedy travelling horse will thrive. Curiosity is my greed, and upon this I flourish as a traveller. Between the ridges are dips down which to gather momentum. In the valleys are shadows from which I climb to escape. There is no equilibrium, just the occasional pause. On and on, down and up, step after step, that is the way. From light to dark and back to light. A view yields clues as to the way, guiding me to the next wild belvedere. Dusk falls and it is time to find shelter. Day will return.