When you catch a glimpse of it, br in the sunlit glade, br among the high hills, br among the white-crested waves, br does it move? br or is it unmoving, br this graceful vision of it? br br it seems unmoving, yet br faster than the mind moves; br ahead of all your senses; br even roaming wild and joyful br among the high hills, br its white mane flying free, br somehow it's still br within its movement, br within your stillness; br br can you see the tracks of fish, br or the airy passage of the birds? br it's beyond movement, even beyond stillness; br and yet, you love it, br yearn for it, although it - because it br runs faster than the mind of man.