Horses

The horses running away from themselves leave a trail of light behind. Their Sun is a ball of rope. Its end is tied to their foot. They are all one. The ink that writes about them is their only existence in our realm. We don't have eyes to see them. We have robots to produce our rope. We have robots to run our race. But we don't have any robot to show us the light. We only have a reflection of it that blinds us. Our confusion is a vicious cycle directly linked to our collective amnesia and growing insanity.