The Compromise Chariot

An Overeating Metaphor


The black stallion prances and dances, and lunges and plunges,

He hates to be harnessed, he wants to run free.

He chaffs at the bit, he pulls at the rein,

‘I won’t be held back, let me go, let me be!’


He leaps ahead, pulling, he knows where he’s going,

The road of his choice is that left road ahead.

‘Don’t try to stop me, I want complete freedom,

I’m charging down that road, so give me my head!’


Beside him, dragged forward, the white stallion struggles.

‘The right road is better, it’s safer – take heed!’

He tries to control his excited companion,

‘I know the best way, so calm down, let me lead.’


The white horse is sensible, always steps carefully,

Won’t take a wrong turn, keeps his eye on the goal.

But what can he do, when he’s tied to the black horse,

Who must have his way, like a wild and spoilt foal.


I stand on the chariot behind these two horses,

Each of them pulling in opposite ways.

The black horse keeps winning, I cannot control him.

The white horse gives up, trotting on in a daze.


The answer is compromise, this is my theory.

The white must be nurtured and helped, given strength.

The right path confirmed and agreed and saluted,

The white horse promoted, reassured – and at length!


But the black can’t be punished, ignored or neglected,

He must be acknowledged, he can’t just be shot!

He needs to be calmed and allowed some enjoyment,

A little indulgence, more often than not.


If these two fine horses could just work together,

Move on without conflict, trot on side by side,

I think I could drive them both clear of all danger,

I think I could have a more comfortable ride.


(Perhaps, after some years of working together,

The white and the black would merge into one horse!

All conflict resolved, now a unified creature.

The new horse’s colour?  A piebald of course!)





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