Standing in Phaedrus

You dark horse,
Burrowed in my senses
And rationed in my will,
How long must you buck
And kick,
Demanding your dues?

The stallion,
One whose strength rivals your own,
Loses control of the chariot
Time and time again
Because of your folly
And your unrelenting recklessness.

Perhaps if you are starved,
Deprived
Of your refined wheat
And stripped
Of the stable I keep for you,
Then might you leave my sight.

No matter the
Care,
Discipline,
And control I wield
To the stallion that challenges you,
Your arrogance…

…will still cause my chariot cart
To swerve on its wheels,
Drifting dangerously
To the dark ditch
On the side of the straight and narrow path
I navigate with prudence. 

Should I cut your cord
Loose from the bridle
And shake my reins free,
Maybe then I,
With my lone stallion,
Can continue to paradise.