"Where the Horse Runs, Luck Follows"
(A tribute to the spirit that never forgets the wind)
In many old stories, when the earth still spoke and the rivers still remembered, the horse did not belong to humans — it chose them.
It ran wild first,
carving trails into valleys
and lifting the breath of mountains beneath its hooves.
But when it saw a heart brave enough,
quiet enough,
open enough —
it came closer.
And so the horse became more than a beast of burden.
It became a bearer of fortune.
Not luck in coins or easy days —
but the kind of luck that rides with you through storms,
that carries your soul across distance,
and brings you home when your feet no longer remember the way.
The horse teaches us this:
That true luck is movement — a willingness to gallop even when the path is uncertain.
That the wind is not the enemy, but a companion.
And that to ride is not to control —
but to trust, to join, to become.
In every thundering stride is a prayer,
in every snort, a memory of the plains,
in every gaze, a mirror —
asking not what do you want,
but how free are you willing to be?
