The Horse, the Ox and the Wolf

The golden plains beckon,
a rolling sea of grass,
The horse gallops past,
a spirit of freedom.

The fields lie barren
Yet to be fertile.
The ox ploughs the earth,
in wait for the seeding.

The night over the hill,
a shadow falls over
The wolf prowls the woods,
hunting for his prey

Yet the plains are unending
The earth is hard
The woods are forsaken
Whither shalt they find their rightful abode?