Where Are All The Wild Horses Gone? Poem by Robert Rittel

Where are the gypsy ladies dancing around the fire,
giving the freedom expression all its desire.
Riding the drums at the shore of sleepless head,
resting under the firmament on a salty sandy bed.
Caressing every moment till the night changes to light blue,
kissing loving lips in every gentle hue.

Where are the wild horses gone…..

Where are the hikers towards a fabulous story,
taken a no, not for an answer as fashion for the individual glory.
Guys who take the dream as serious pleasure,
bending with the wind and a song by every new measure.
With the ideal to conquer the mediocre crown,
and taken the superficial empire down.

Where are the wild horses gone…..

Where are those people seeing the new world's worth,
not hiding behind every screen, giving the eyes a new birth.
Every generation needs a garden with trees to climb in all heights,
the juiciest fruits on top are the greatest delight.
Where no bonds or credits making meets end falling apart,
and handshakes meaning the world coming from the heart.

Where are the wild horses gone…..

Where are the hero's and heroines to face the corrupted real,
and not making themselves a part of the commercial deal.
Where the integrity in purest thoughts shines bright,
taking natures loving law as reasons in divine sight.
Born to be wild has nothing to do with society's concern,
it's the spirit knowing the freedom by the eternal term.