Where is the man who will mount the wind?
Where is the man who will fly
From here to the stars in a heartbeat
Past the pillars that hold up the sky?

For there is a steed, of a heavenly breed
Who longs for the touch of a man.
What you never dared do in your dreams
On the white one, the wild one, you can.

For Pegasus rests on a lightning bolt
And spurns the stars beneath.
At sunset he tramples the day to death;
Then rears on the blasted heath.

And yet, he treads on the spider webs
And never bruises a flower
Who circles around the virgin moon
In half of a half an hour.

The milky way is his drinking pool.
His stable the cave of night,
The whole bright sky his grazing
When he puts the stars to flight.

Fabulous wealth, prize and pelf
He to his master brings,
But he will not be curbed by bridle or bit
And fears are a weight on his wings.

So where is the man who will mount him
And never look back with a sigh?
Where is the man who will joyously ride
When he know that to fear is to die?

His master must be a man soul-free
Who calls "faster" at every breath,
And knowing his mount is immortal,
Rides with a laugh to his death.

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