Apogee

A pale, imperfect creature roams on high
an appaloosa galloping around
the vast expanse of blue we call the sky
so distant that it doesn't make a sound;
corralled so long ago it can't defy
the rope below that's limiting its range
for if you've worn the bridle overmuch
your calloused disposition isn't strange
in fact, you could become a bit removed
and shy away from any tender touch
until it seems the path you walk is grooved
just drifting through the shadows all alone
in search of some new phase - a life improved
instead of slowly turning into stone.