taming ponies for pegasus practice

I love C.S. Lewis. The man is the bomb. Not literally…but figuratively…an explosion of practical theology and logical spirituality focused on the immortal soul of man and his relationship to his peers and to his God. Recently, while skipping a worthless lecture, reading “the bomb” in a grassy courtyard under the brilliant morning sky of Colorado, I came across the following passage of Lewis. In it he discusses our physical nature and the responsibility we have to our bodies, not just for this life, but for eternity. He compares our earthly bodies to a pony that we must learn to ride that one day we might effortlessly guide and control the mighty winged stallions of heaven to which we will be entrusted. As I pondered this fascinating representation, I was inspired to write a few lines of prose. I’m reasonably pleased with the outcome, but that is not saying too much…there is a great deal that pleases me when it takes my energies away from my school work.

“To shrink back from all that can be called Nature into negative spirituality is as if we ran away from horses instead of learning to ride. There is in our present pilgrim condition plenty of room (more room than most of us like) for abstinence and renunciation and mortifying our natural desires. But behind all asceticism the thought should be, 'Who will trust us with the true wealth if we cannot be trusted even with the wealth that perishes?' Who will trust me with a spiritual body if I cannot control even an earthly body? These small and perishable bodies we now have were given to us as ponies are given to schoolboys. We must learn to manage: not that we may someday be free of horses altogether but that some day we may ride bare-back, confident and rejoicing, those greater mounts, those winged, shining and world-shaking horses which perhaps even now expect us with impatience, pawing and snorting in the King's stables. Not that the gallop would be of any value unless it were a gallop with the King; but how else--since He has retained His own charger--should we accompany Him?”
~C.S. Lewis, Miracles


The King’s Horse - The King’s Man by Matt Bostrom

Breathing in deep, the creature woke with a start,
Its life had begun, eternally marked.
A wild beast of unimaginable glory,
It snorted and roared in the light of the morning.

He was a physical being of power and light,
Yet his spirit was missing – his soul giving life.
For a time his spirit was forced to remain
In a perishing body, in a weak, fallen frame.

For a time to endure pain, toil, and loss,
In a world of rebellion, greed, and of lust.
But the spirit was chosen, in time before time,
To a feast of the King, in glory to dine.

The soul had and inkling, but only a glimpse
Of the creature he would become, as he died to himself.
If he gave his life over and planted his trust
In his God, his Maker, Who breathed his life from the dust.

In the real existence, that was not yet revealed,
The creature roared with longing, in impatience he reared.
Wanting to run free, united body and soul,
Yearning to spread his great wings, and over the mountaintops soar.

Yet there was purpose, and in His great will,
He ordained the soul to endure, his adoption to learn.
He gave it the ability, the desire and sight
To come to His throne, broken yet alive in the light.

Thus, as the frame drew its last breath,
The spirit was saved, even in death.
Like a seed that dies, and falls to the ground,
New life springs victorious, with majesty crowned!

And the creature and soul fused eternal and one,
Leapt out of the stables and into the sun.
With joy beyond joy, eternal life without fear,
He sang a triumph song to his God, who in love drew near.

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