Across the endless grassland, the horse gallops, feeling absolute freedom！

My freedoms are your freedoms, for as I walk this land, with my family, my band, my heart beats as one with the herd beneath the sun. We are the wild ones, roaming a land claimed by many. You can see me in the valleys, you can find me among the mountains, grazing in the open range, running free beyond the clouds in the sky and the reshaping sands. I allow you to walk with me, for as we share this earth, you too can be a part of my herd. So, as I stand on the whispering grasses, the swirling dust makes me sigh. I watch as my family is run from me. I feel the tearing apart of the herd, the herd that is the heartbeat of what is this nation, for this country survived because of the equine. It was the horse and human relation that existed for time and time again. My loved ones are ripped from my sight. It is for all of the herd that I fight, but as all never remains the same, my life forever is changed. As I stand in the mud, within confines that separate me from my mares and gates that close with a thud, there is nothing familiar in this place, only loud disturbances and a man with an unsoundly face. I shut my eyes and desire this nightmare to end. I look for my family band. Hopelessly, I hang my head. My freedom is gone. My spirit is dead. Years later, I think and recall a time so distant and long ago, when I ran free on open land, one with the herd, leaving a trail of dust and sand. My years were spent as a ranch hand, serving my time. Now, older and in pain, the auction does not refrain from selling me, despite my broken feet. Kill buyers' piercing eyes, heavy sounds, disturbing odors leave me weak. Circumstances change, and I am rescued by kind hands and the love I seek, but my heart is with my family and herd on the range. The man gently examines me, and many hands stroke me. I hear gentle whispers. I will be running free soon, they say. I close my eyes, and the pain is away, and I forgive.