thousands wild black horses
galloping on rocky ground,
their manes whistling in the wind,
their hoofs crackling and sparkling.
and throwing profuse lightning,
their eyes rolling in their heads,
a roaring sound born in their throats,
ending in an insupportable pitch.
the night was black,
the horses were invisible,
the noise was incredible,
they disappeared behind the clouds
their agonising gallop dying slowly.
one star shone shy and trembling.
the herd was gone.
nature was resting,
until the next storm.
the storm is like thousand wild black horses