The Joust

The battlefield is cleared for two majestic equines
one black, one white.
Yin and Yang as it were,
they face off from a distance,
opposing yet necessary forces.

Soon they will gallop at light defying speed
towards each other, swords upraised,
with intent to defeat but never to harm.
For their riders are garbed in heavy armor,
lest the blade threaten their life force.

Indeed this is a battle of the psyche,
not a war of the flesh,
and the winner and the loser
are one and the same,
polar opposites,
necessary to the other’s survival.

The ebony horse is a stallion,
gallant, rugged, spirited and foreboding.
His presence is obvious, ostentatious,
commanding, regal,
tainted with an air of danger.

The white horse is winged, demure,
appears condescending when not in action,
strong and secure in its power
but without pretense,
blessed with an air of elegance.

The black horse rears up,
hoofs extended heavenward.
The white horse shakes its mane,
spreading silver tendrils of light around it,
bows its head in grace.

Their shadows merge before them,
riding tandem.
When one reaches, the other follows.
Together they compliment,
they cajole, and they cavort.
In their magnificence,
they are beauty in perfect form.