As Free As Horses

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn

Copyright © 2016 Marvin Thomas Cox
DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn
All Rights Reserved

Amazingly, mankind believes himself elevated above all life upon this planet.
As human beings, we are taught to believe that we are more advanced, biologically
and genetically, on the alleged evolutionary scale of life that sprang forth upon this
rock we call Earth. We believe that we are mentally, emotionally, and intellectually
above all creatures of the Earth—in possessing conscious awareness of our existence
—and, as a result of our self professed superiority, we are propelled by our advanced
instincts to rule, master, or destroy, everything within range of our grasp and
imaginations.
While animals congregate within burrows, troops, packs, and herds, Man
congregates within towns, cities, and metropolises. While ants, wasps, and bees,
busy themselves with hives, nests, and colonies, superiorly advanced Man busies
himself within nations and cultural centers of civilization. Because of Man's asserted
and assumed superiority, almost every living creature on Earth—with the exception
of some bacteria and viruses—is subject to the will and whim of mankind, with
plants, fungi, and animals, alike, served up in tasty dishes upon his dining table. Yet,
for all of his self proclaimed superiority, Mankind exists within the deception of
illusion that he answers to no one but himself in asserting certain Creator endowed
rights which the unseen rulers of society have cleverly labeled as freedom. Thus,
men live on this earth the same as do cattle, thinking themselves above the cattle who
are raised, fed, and watered, for future slaughter. We proudly exist as free citizens of

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our general locale, city, state, or nation. Us Texans, like to think that we are as free
as horses roaming the Texas plains of the old west … But are we truly any freer?
____________

Allow me to tell a simple tale of a simple horse. He was a young horse, named
Lazy. Now, Lazy loved to run and roam the seeming unlimited vastness of the
beautiful land upon which he was born, living care free, spirited, unbroken, and
unbridled to anything or anyone—or so he thought—until one day he had wandered
long enough and far enough to find that he had arrived at a barrier that stood as an
impediment to his desire of further travel and exploration of life and all its
wonderment of mysteries. Men call such a contrivance a fence.
This unexpected event caused Lazy no small concern, because he had always
been taught, by those older and wiser horses, to believe that horses are free to go
wherever their hearts and hooves would take them. As he stood there, the barrier
before him, Lazy considered jumping the obstacle that barred him from his curiosity
laden quest. He could do that easily, but should he? The barrier must exist for a
reason and a purpose, he thought to himself.
For a split second, Lazy began to waver, almost doubting the sacredly held
truths all young horses are taught to believe as absolute, indisputable, foundational
truths of creation, life, and existence upon the plains. A thought, totally independent
of all he had been taught, rose fleetingly to the surface of his horse mind: Am I but a
prisoner, a slave, mere cattle upon the land? Instinctively, the ingrained teaching
and programming of those older and wiser horses spewed forth to drown that fleeting
thought with assurances that such a reality simply could not be. No, there must be a
logical and rational answer, because Lazy trusted those older and wiser horses, and
surely they would never lie to those whom they taught and held charge over, in
teaching the young all they would ever need to know. Why ponder upon such
worrisome thoughts, when those older and wiser horses held the keys to all
knowledge and truth? Yet, he could not help but wonder as to how this could be, if
all horses are free?
The answer came soon enough one sunny morning after the sunny praise and
worship service in honor of Horus, god and creator of all Horse-kind. Those older
and wiser horses had heard rumors that Lazy had taken it upon himself to formulate
a question regarding the order of horse existence.
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 To question the order of existence was considered, by those older and wiser
horses, to be a great sin. Good horses simply accepted the order of existence as
taught them. To question the order of existence was absurd and contrary to horse
tradition as taught to horses of all generations by the ancient sages who received the
order of existence from the mouth of Horus, himself. To question was blasphemy,
pure and simple.
What Lazy needed was more teaching and less thinking. Those older and wiser
horses saw to that in explaining, in great detail of their vast wisdom, that the barrier
was something which Horus called the Great Fence of Horace, and was not a source
of confinement at all, for all horses live free within their freedom to roam the land of
the plains within Horus' Kingdom of Horses. The barrier was, in fact, established by
Horus, himself, in protecting all Horse-kind from those predators and enemies that
might seek to harm them, which was exactly why the intertwining vines of the Great
Fence of Horus were garnished with thorns of discouragement to potential predators.
To go beyond the barrier—to jump the Great Fence of Horus to go to the beyond of
the outside world—was to violate the Sacred Words of Horus, and would bring death
and separation from Horus, and eternal damnation to all who did so.
How dare Lazy challenge the status quo of what is so by sinning and
blaspheming in questioning the order of all horse existence? The Great Fence of
Horus, those older and wiser horses proclaimed angrily, does not exist to enslave
Horse-kind—after all horses are not cattle—but exists as a symbol of freedom for the
entirety of Horse-kind, as free horses with Horus endowed rights. If Lazy kept on
thinking for himself, there was no telling what silly notions he might get into his head.
“You do know what happens to those who jump the Great Fence of Horus, to
go to the beyond of the outside world?,” they asked Lazy in a most scornfully
threatening manner.
“They die?” Lazy replied, his voice quivering in fear.
“They are never seen or heard from again, dying without hope that is total
separation from the compassion and mercy of Horus—a death met in the loneliness
and solitude of having resolved themselves to the consequences of a decision that has
rendered them as condemned forever to irrevocable eternal damnation! But those
who abide by the Sacred Words of Horus shall live forever, even if they die, for
Horus shall send the majestic Chariot of Horus to carry the righteous to a home
where they may roam in grass taller than trees, and drink water sweeter than honey
made by bees, to live with him forever. Stop questioning the order of horse existence,

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lest you find yourself suffering horribly for an eternity,” those older and wiser horses
instructed ever so firmly in full confidence of their great knowledge and authority as
the direct representatives of Horus' Kingdom of Horses.
Had Lazy endeavored to do a bit more thinking for himself, he might have
discerned that those older and wiser horses were simply talking religious horseshit.
But it was so much easier to accept the truths of the order of existence as given,
rather than bringing trouble upon himself by raising more questions. He was already
marked as a troublemaker now, a sinner who dared question the word of Horus.
So Lazy was simply too lazy, and too afraid, to embark upon a journey of
learning the truth for himself. In time, any wild ideas of jumping the Great Fence of
Horus, to go to the beyond of the outside world, ceased to exist as he came to calmly
and confidently accept the order of horse existence as per the teachings of those
older and wiser horses who had passed down the commands of Horus from horse
generation to horse generation for countless thousands of years. His near moment of
youthful rebellion was but short lived, reigned into submissive conformity by the
repetitive training that had begun when he was only a toddling foal.
In addition, his faith in Horus had grown immensely after actually witnessing
the Chariot of Horus arrive in the distance to escort several of those older and wiser
horses away, sparing them death in old age in order to translate them into eternal life
with Horus. The sight had brought tears to his young eyes as he felt prompted to
quietly whisper his favorite lines of liturgy recited at every sunny praise and worship
service: “The mercy of Horus endures forever, and his love is beyond understanding
in compassion that transcends the thoughts of mere Horse-kind … Train up a horse
in the way he should go and, when he is old, he will not depart from it ... Blessed be
Horus, and may his name be praised forever and ever!”

***
Many years had gone by, and Lazy was a young horse no more, for old age had
overtaken him. The years had made him, not only older but, wiser. And to those who
came to him questioning the wisdom of Horus, in placing the Great Fence of Horus
around the plains of all Horse-kind, he would proudly tell them that he could not
prove what happens to those who jump the Great Fence of Horus to go to the beyond
of the outside world. He did not wish to witness such sufferings firsthand, himself,

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and neither should they. But, he could tell them, for a fact, that his eyes had
witnessed righteous horses translated and carried away in the Chariot of Horus, to
live with him forever.
Most would stand in awe of his testimony and his wisdom as one of those older
and wiser horses. But, there were always some who would not listen, and chose to
risk eternal damnation for themselves in sinning by stubbornly insisting upon
questioning the order of all horse existence. Such poor souls, sooner or later, would
end up jumping the Great Fence of Horace to go to the beyond of the outside world,
only to wander aimlessly in misery of unquenchable thirst and hunger, to soon meet
their deaths in fear of the eternal suffering to come. He had considered as much—
once. But that had all changed when he was truly converted, in that moment when
the spirit that instills the fear of Horus came upon him. He had truly witnessed the
salvation of Horus. His eyes had also seen the fate of those whose lack of faith had
aroused the anger of Horus—a fate that sent chills rippling through his spine at its
every remembrance.
“You'll understand one day, young horses, when you are older as I am. That
is, if you wisely obey the Sacred Words of Horus—turn yourselves from the youthful
lusts that lead to rebellion—you shall each live long, happy, and contented lives. It
shall not be long now, for time has its way of catching up to us all, and you shall see
me die—or you shall see me no more. I pray I am found worthy of being translated
into eternal life. It is for Horus to decide who is righteous and worthy of such honor.
But, young friends, when you look across the plains to see dust gathering upon
the horizon, then, know your redemption is nigh. Do not fear. Most of all, do not
fear for me. Good things come to those who wait, who wait faithfully upon Horus.
One day your time will come to face death. If you are blessed to see the Chariot of
Horus coming for you, stand your ground and do not run away in fear. If you can do
this, Horus may choose to rain his mercy upon you and translate you into eternal life
so that you do have to taste death in order to enter his Kingdom of Everlasting Life
where you shall never hunger or thirst, ever, again.
Pray for the day when your eyes shall witness, upon that chariot that shall
surely come for you and for me, the Sacred Words and promise of Horus, pawed in
the old and ancient tongue that is said in lay-horses terms to simply mean, “Horus
Saves,” Lazy preached warmly to his young horse listeners.
“How do we know what you say is true?,” Quizzical, a horse of the rebellious
questioning sort asked. “How can anyone know what truly lies beyond the Great

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Fence of Horus? How do we even know that Horus built the Great Fence of Horace
and, if true, exactly why? Where's the proof of all these many great truths of which
you speak?”
“You would dare to blaspheme and question the command of Horus before one
such as I, who has seen and witnessed his glory with my own eyes? No one, not a
single horse, has ever returned after jumping the Great Fence of Horus to go to the
beyond of the outside world. Eternal damnation befell them as they so justly
deserved,” Lazy chided with the same zealous fervor that those older and wiser
horses had scolded him with so many years ago.
“So, I suppose that we should start feeling all reverent, get all hot to trot to
pulling our mane, and curry our coat to a sheen that reflects our self professed
righteousness, every time the wind stirs up a little dust cloud like that one way out
there on the distant horizon?,” Quizzical remarked sarcastically.
“The wind is not blowing today young one. Not a leaf is stirring upon the
branches of these trees we stand beneath in seeking the solace of shade from the
sun,” Lazy informed the rebellious young horse. “I speak of a day when dust shall
again appear upon the horizon without explanation of any blowing winds. Dust
likeee ...”
The old horse's jaw had suddenly dropped in utter surprise of what should have
been no surprise at all, if one were to base his thoughts and conclusions upon the
veracity and sincerity of the older and wiser horse's words spoken so intensely only
moments ago. But Lazy was utterly surprised. He was also terrified. He knew he
had come of age, and his time to die was at hand.
Faith is a word used to inspire others to heights of heroism, courage, and
bravery. Faith is also a flimsy blanket to have wrapped about you, when the cold
winds of death begin to blow a chill through your bones, as it becomes you who must
summon up the intestinal fortitude to accept your own mortality in finding yourself
forced to peer into the ravenously cruel eyes of death—and that, face to face. There
is no such thing as preparation for that final moment, no matter how hard a good
horse tries.
Silence now befell them, as every eye caught sight of the growing dust cloud
upon the horizon.
“Behold, your salvation draweth nigh, old horse, for surely Horus does not
come for those as young as we,” all the young horses mocked in unison.
“Do not fear, young horses!” Lazy shouted, in attempting to calmly hide his

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own fear. “Stand firm, and await the salvation of Horus that comes for us one and
all … Sooner or later, in our due time … Pray for me, please, that I shall not die, but
be translated before your very eyes, so that you may teach your children of the mercy
and goodness of Horus.”
Lazy's words of encouragement had come far too late, in falling upon deaf
ears. The rebellious horse's eyes were already filled with fear, his hooves pawing the
earth nervously. Time for further discussion would have revealed every horse in the
small study group to be panic stricken, fighting back the urge to run—especially that
one particularly rebellious horse who tended to question everything he had ever been
taught.
The sudden flood of adrenaline had activated the rebellious horse's primal
instinct for survival. The time for talking was over. The time for thinking was over.
It was time to act. It was time to run like the wind. In a frenzy, Quizzical made for
the Great Fence of Horus, only a short distance away since it had been the topic of
this day's discussion, and—in one desperate move—jumped the Great Fence of Horus
to enter the beyond of the outside world. Eternal damnation or not, this horse's
common horse-sense told him that something was not right about that cloud of dust
heading directly towards Horus' Kingdom of Horses.
Galloping as fast as his hooves would carry him, the young sinner was in the
grips of enjoying his new found freedom into the depths of blasphemy, when there
came forth in the air a most terrifying sound louder than any tree cracking and
falling, rivaling even the loudest thunder of any storm he'd ever heard before. As he
slid to a precarious halt, he spun himself around to look back at the Great Fence of
Horus, wondering what had made that horrendous noise.
Across the fence and just beyond the small grove of trees where he had
conversed with Lazy's, Sacred Words of Horus, discussion group only moments
earlier, the Chariot of Horus had arrived in all its holy splendor, where all the
servants of Horus in line of sight of his arrival were gathering in haste to worship
him in fear and trembling of knocking knees, while grazing reverently upon generous
gifts of Holy Communion shew-grass—provided by Horus The Merciful—distributed
in ample portions by the Chariot of Horus' escort of angelic beings as part of The
Day of Horus Transubstantiation Memorial meal. Then, had come that horrific
sound of Horus' displeasure as every horse had instinctively scattered to observe the
scene from a safe distance. Fear permeated the air.
Near the Sacred Entrance to the Chariot of Horus, the crumpled body of one of

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those older and wiser horses lay dead upon the ground—having attempted to run for
dear life rather than enter the Chariot of Horus—as a testimony of warning to other
faithless horses who might reveal themselves unworthy of the eternal life translating
mercy of Horus. His angelic beings stood over the dead horse shaking their heads in
utter disdain, while gently summoning the scattered servants of Horus to return to
enjoying the Holy Communion of delicious transubstantiation shew-grass their
Merciful Lord and Savior had so kindly bestowed upon them. The Sacred Words of
Horus echoed above the ringing now resounding within every horses ears: “Except
you eat the flesh of Horus, you have no life in you, but shall wither away as the
morning dew and vanish as the flowers of the plains, never to rise again for lack of
rain in season of drought.” Obedience was prompt.
The Day of Horus Transubstantiation Memorial meal had scarcely begun its
recommencement of shew-grass—become the body of Horus—hesitantly devoured by
his dumbfounded servants, in absolute awe of having discovered that god could taste
so wonderfully good—when that terrifying sound of Horus' great displeasure rang
out once more to see Lazy drop to the ground as well. From all appearances, Lazy
had also fallen prey to a moment of weakness that had revealed his lack of true faith
in that final moment just prior to entering the Chariot of Horus, and he had suddenly
become overwhelmed by fear and panic in a wildly desperate attempt to flee all he
had so professed to believe in.
The young horse stood for some time, gazing in awe of the very presence of the
Chariot of Horus. For a brief moment, Quizzical felt his faith strengthening within
himself. He had witnessed this with his own eyes, just as old Lazy had prophesied he
would. The angelic beings appeared to be of some long discarded physical design
that, perhaps, had resulted in their creation, as prototypes, long before Horus
perfected his ultimately advanced creative design of all Horse-kind. It was no
wonder the poor creatures found themselves relegated to meager positions, in the
Kingdom of Horus, as angelic beings serving as escorts, because they were
frighteningly ugly in disgusting appearance, possessing only two limbs for walking
and running. Their other two limbs—totally useless for running—seemed to be
designed only for the express purpose of bearing the Holy Olive Branch of Horus, a
branch that could assure peace to faithful servants, or spew forth the death fire of
that terrifying sound of Horus' great displeasure—a horrendous sound that he had
now witnessed twice this day.
The second volley, of Horus' noisy demonstration of his great displeasure, had

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frightened all of his servants away to an even greater distance than before. None—
not a single one—returned to stand and await the salvation of Horus or continue
enjoying The Day of Horus Transubstantiation Memorial meal, after twice hearing
the full fury of his anger and witnessing two of those older and wiser horses drop to
the ground in the instant of that terrifying sound triggered by their shameful
faithlessness. Horus' angelic beings seemed to be totally beside themselves,
consumed with raging anger at this act of foolhardy faithlessness in the very presence
of Horace The Merciful. There would be no more Holy Communion of
transubstantiation shew-grass—today.
The Judgment of Horus had fallen upon two unworthy servants who had
attempted to flee his goodness and mercy. Surely, Horus was greatly displeased with
all his horses, possibly even repenting himself, once more, that he had ever created
Horse-kind—for within their guilt laden minds, also, loomed the ominous Sacred
Words of Horus that spoke of an ancient time when he truly had repented himself of
ever creating all Horse-kind in sending forth The Great Flood of Horus to drown
each and every one, apart from a righteous chosen few, in the countless tears he'd
shed, because of their egregious sins against him.
Every horse within Horus' Kingdom of Horses would bear the sin of those who
had shamefully fled this day. They were not worthy to live in Horus' Kingdom of
Horses. All the fleeing servants of Horus sensed this fact bitterly in the depths of
their guilty hearts, hoping and praying for his forgiveness, because it was all too
clear that their fear had proven stronger than their faith. It was a day of great shame
for all Horse-kind, for those who had fled were thankful to be in possession of lives
that would, henceforth, be lived in hope of being spared eternal damnation. All they
could do was to wait for Horus' anger to subside. Until then, the fledgling faithless
servants of Horus—having fled in fear though they had witnessed the glory of his
Holy Presence—would resolve themselves to humble acts of repentance, while
clothing themselves in ashen dried leaves and sack-grass, as they fasted and
continued steadfast in prayer as they fearfully awaited that future day of his glorious
return in tenuous hope of redeeming themselves of their shame and, one day in old
age, somehow, attaining to translation into blessed eternal life. For who should they
fear more than Horus himself? There was no other in whom they could place their
hope, and their trust.
Nevertheless, just below the surface of their conscious awareness, lurked an
indomitable realization that left them more terror stricken than even their fear of

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Horus: The events of this day had not taken place in secret. There were always
those who watched from afar—conveniently circumventing the Sacred Words of
Horus for all Horse-kind which commanded all horses, those witnessing his visitation
upon Horse-kind, to make haste to enter into Holy Communion with him in partaking
of The Day of Horus Transubstantiation Memorial meal and worshiping him in the
adoration of fear and trembling of knocking knees—and that someone would talk.
That someone could even be one of the guilty horses, present today, thinking
that by confessing his shame and informing on others that, somehow, he might rid
himself of his guilt and find absolution from his sin.
There was no doubt, someone would talk, because someone always did. And
when they did? The Assembly Elders would gather—the prestigious elite of those
older and wiser horses—to decide whether the incident was serious enough to
warrant gathering the Assembly Tribunal. It would be, since any incident involving a
lack of faith or heresy always warranted gathering the Assembly Tribunal, who
would, then, further investigate the matter as to whether it warranted holding a trial.
It would, as it always did, which is exactly why the Assembly of Elders made certain
they, themselves, were never put at risk of facing a trial—for even the slightest
wavering of their faith—by simply catering to the appetite of the Assembly Tribunal,
which firmly believed, in some twisted, distorted, fashion, that their high calling by
Horus was to insure that the faith-line of all Horse-kind remained pure and strong by
rooting out any sign of weakness in the faith.
The Assembly Elders gave forth the appearance of being in absolute power and
control but, in reality it was the Assembly Tribunal who were the true power behind
the throne of governance of the earthly realm of Horus' Kingdom of Horses.
It was this overwhelmingly pervasive thought, within the underlying currents of
the emotions of today's shame, that was causing not just a few horses to consider
galloping to the precipice of the nearest semblance of a cliff and diving headlong into
the escape from punishment provided by the crevasse just below. Oh yes, the
Assembly Elders would get wind of this debacle of faith and, when they did, coats of
honor would be mercilessly torn from the guilty … And that thought made the thought
of eternal damnation sound like a walk on the plains on a pleasantly cool rainy day.

***
His front hooves gently pawing at the earth in the neighboring land of damned

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to hell sinners and blasphemers, Quizzical ever so quizzically attempted to analyze
all that his cognizant horse mind and heart had just witnessed. There had been that
brief, fleeting, moment when his youthful years of programmed mental conditioning
—implanted by those older and wiser horses as taskmasters of the Assembly of
Horus' One Religion For One Kingdom of Horses that had been organized by the
ancient sages and decreed as the law of the plains in accordance with the Sacred
Words of Horus—had come very near to causing him to, impulsively, jump back to
the other side of the Great Fence of Horus in order to prove his faith and
righteousness. But, in that instant of almost mindless obedience to conditioned
response, something deep inside him had screamed out the two letter word, “No! … I
must learn to think freely … I must learn to think for myself … And I must learn to
make decisions for myself as to what is right for me in my life … I am a free thinking
horse … From this day forward, I am no longer cattle!”
A cascading stream of independent thoughts had sprung into existence within
his mind, as neurons that had rarely experienced electrical activity began to
creatively generate new thoughts of a future based upon free thinking. There was no
doubt, whatsoever, that he was afraid of learning that he was wrong and truly
doomed to eternal damnation, but what had Lazy's life of cattle-like cow-towing
gotten him for all of his years of service to a god who had slaughtered him, in a
moment of weakness of the flesh, for simply being a horse—when all plains roaming
horses are terrified of being corralled in tightly confined spaces and are easily panic
stricken by explosively loud noises?
To make matters more fearfully confusing, the Chariot of Horus resembled a
giant armadillo shell from which the owner had been removed for it was completely
enclosed, except for the Sacred Entrance to the Chariot of Horus. Among those who
secretly whispered their doubts as to the teachings of Horus, it was that ominous
darkness, looming just ahead within the Chariot of Horus, which had been rumored
to be the cause of those weak in the faith bolting in shear desperation of their gut
instinct to get the hell outta there while the gettin' was good.
To Quizzical's young mind, it made no sense, whatsoever, that Horus' wrath
should fall upon the weak for simply exercising the very instinct for survival that he,
himself, had created all Horse-kind with. What horse, in his right mind, could bring
himself to love a god who gleaned insatiable pleasure from forcing his servants to
worship him in the adoration of fear and trembling of knocking knees—a god who
declared himself merciful but demonstrated his mercy by slaughtering the weak,

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rather than protecting them—a god who touted love and mercy but, in all reality,
held his kingly throne by instillment of fear alone?
In full light of this day's demonstrable fear factor tone alone—a deadly tone
lacking in that proper pitch and key of true melodiousness to stir one's mind to
irresistible images of splendorous emotions of purest affection (undefiled of
beguiling wiles) that have fully matured as the life sustaining succulent fruit of
unconditional love offered freely and without cost of obligation or reciprocation of
receiving love in return, but, rather, has aggressively revealed itself as something
else altogether—any horse's sensible inclination towards sane logic should, by all
rights of reason in due season, arrive at the undeniable sensation of alarming
proclamation that it was damn sure high time to have fled a god who saw only red
and ruled by nod of fiery rod—and that without rhyme, or reason of an ominously
invasive tone of menacing proportions mercilessly wielded in mandating
unconditional subservience of obeisance attained through terror induced adoration
and mental prostration brought to fruition out of an all consuming fear of losing
one's life.
Hell and Hailstones! It was just good ole common horse sense to understand
that anytime you enter into a relationship where someone professes to love you, and
your love in return is corralled as a nonnegotiable requirement denying you any
choice of free will without threat of undue consequences 1, there is something wrong
with that relationship. You have entered into a bad relationship, and something bad
is bound to happen!
***
Thoughts were bubbling to the surface of his mind uncontrollably now. And
almost every inspiration of thought was a blasphemous thought. He was afraid, but
what was he truly afraid of? Failing to serve a vindictively narcissistic god? Being
damned to wander in the land of the beyond of the outside world? Being condemned
to eternal damnation? No. Quizzical knew in his heart that what he feared most of
all was letting go of a lie that had been the entirety of his young life. His life had
been built around a lie that attempted to control his life, his every movement, his
every act, his every thought, his every spoken word.
Learning to think freely was almost as terrifying as facing the anger of Horus,
because free thinking placed a horse in a position of making his own decisions—and
1 Undue Consequences—In jurisprudence, undue influence is an equitable doctrine that involves one person taking advantage of a position of power over
another person. This inequity in power between the parties can vitiate one party's consent as they are unable to freely exercise their independent will.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Undue_influence

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making his own mistakes. Freedom of thought came at a price, and fear sought to
keep the devil's claws2 of mental slavery upon him. He realized now that the
religious leadership of the Assembly of Horus' One Religion For One Kingdom of
Horses—the only religion allowed to openly exist within the Kingdom of Horus
without fear of inquisitional persecution, even death—was, honestly, no different than
the chief characteristics they attributed Horus, himself, with: They, too, ruled by
instillment of fear, wielding power via terror and threat of death.
Those who dared to oppose the authority of the Assembly Elders would soon
find themselves gathered before the Assembly Tribunal where they would be tried and
found guilty of heresy. There were no exceptions. Sentence would quickly be passed.
The sentence always consisted of two phases: Removal of the condemned horse's
coat—for the coat of every horse was symbolic of his, born in innocence, honorary
faithful good standing beneath the protective authority of Horus and his Assembly of
Horus' One Religion For One Kingdom of Horses—leaving him unclothed in the
shame of dishonor that would be expediently followed by execution. Every sentence
was carried out before the Kingdom Herd, where all horse-citizens of Horus'
Kingdom of Horses were required—lest the same fate befall them—to commence
brutally biting, nipping, and ripping the coat of the condemned individual until there
was virtually nothing left upon his body to cover his utter nakedness before the eyes
of Horus' Kingdom of Horses.
As if that were not gruesome disgrace and punishment enough, the poor
creature, torn and bloodied, would, then, be driven from the presence of the Kingdom
Herd to a nearby wash where the Assembly Tribunal's Council of Executioners would
proceed, in unison one and all, to carry out the death sentence by trampling him to
death with their stony hooves. The dead heretic would be left for carrion, and as a
warning to the Assembly of Horus' One Religion For One Kingdom of Horses to
obediently remember the first directive passage of liturgy recited by all horses at
every sunny-praise and worship service: “Horus is a jealous god, who visits the sins
of those who hate him upon the very offspring they hold so dear, but visits the mercy
of good health and green pastures upon the countless thousands of those who love
him and keep his Sacred Words.”
Quizzical had never witnessed an execution. But. He had heard of them. For
many years of his youth from a foal to a young colt, he had dismissed the stories of
these events by those older and wiser horses as pure horseshit. Even at that early
2 Devil's Claws—Proboscidea is a genus of flowering plant in the family Martyniaceae, some of whose species are known as devil's claw, devil's horn,
ram's horn, or unicorn plant. The plants produce long, hooked seed pods. The hooks catch on the feet of animals, and as the animals walk, the pods are
ground or crushed open, dispersing the seeds. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proboscidea_(plant)

As Free As Horses by Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn Page 13

age, he could discern unbelievable horseshit from fact based believable truth.
Problem was, very little of what those older and wiser horses had to say held forth
the prospect of being a believable truth. Instead, their teachings were filled with talk
of logic defying miracles that resounded more of outright fairy-tale fabrications than
any fact based retelling of historical events—even with taking into account a slight
exaggeration here and there as the telling was passed down, by word of mouth, from
generation to generation for thousands of years.
In his view, the inquisitional trials of the Assembly Tribunal were just more of
the same horseshit he had heard since that day he became a foal weaned from his
mothers udders. That is, until that day he wandered into a wash to discover the
putrefied, decomposing, carcass of a horse that looked as if it had been skinned alive,
bite by nipping ripping, bite, and trampled almost beyond recognition. Never in his
short life had he known such overwhelming and all consuming shear terror. It was in
that moment when he had first asked himself, “What kind of a god could do this to
someone he loves?”
A horse had no choice but to accept Horace the way he was, for who could
presume to have the audacity to oppose god—a god that butchered his own creations
for not adhering to the image of himself that he chose to present to the world—a god
who, apparently, was so insecure in his own image of himself that his own existence
was threatened by those who merely failed to believe in him in the fanatically
religious manner he required. It seemed more than logical to Quizzical that a god
who had to go around boasting about how powerful he was, slaughtering those who
did not dance to the tune of his incessantly narcissistic piping, was nothing more than
self glorified bully playing god with no true power at all except that wielded by his
own duplicitous, and greedy for power, hench-horses. Such a god stewed in the
cesspool of the very fear he reigned by. And so, to Quizzical?
There was nothing to fear but fear itself. Fear could be overcome if faced with
an open analytical mind. So. It was time for a reality check of examinable facts.
Fact: He had not died when he had jumped the Great Fence of Horace. Fact: So
far, at least, he had not suffered any punishment for his sin that could be attributed as
some form of impending death by dehydration and starvation to, then, consummate in
punishment of eternal damnation.
It truly appeared that the only horse-citizens suffering punishment of any kind
resided on the religiously fanatical side of the Great Fence of Horus that was
conveniently maintained as an effective barrier to thwart escape due to the mind

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deceiving efforts of his religious leadership hench-horses. Those who had faithfully
acquiesced—to societal submission of living their lives as victims of the illusion of
freedom—were actually eking out their existences in mental devil's claws of slavery—
only seeing true freedom, fleetingly, upon their deaths, if ever at all.
What the hell! He'd be happy to be called the son of a promiscuous old mare—
his mother was a promiscuous old mare—if the grass on this side of the fence wasn't,
for a delicious fact, anything but greener and tastier than any grass he had ever
savored in the entire land of Horus's Kingdom of Horses—just on the other side of
the Great Fence of Horace. If this was damnation, present or eternal, it was surely a
pleasant sensation, for never had he felt such freedom in his life, no matter what
should befall him next. The joy of his newfound freedom made him want to cut loose
with a hearty, nostril resonating, neigh for the whole world to hear. However, that
might not be wise in full view of the two dead horses befallen by the great displeasure
of Horus, regardless of what a horse thought of him, personally. Patience truly is a
virtue and virtue should never be betrayed with a neigh. Rather, it is best to keep
quiet, and watch and learn.

***

Struggling to heed the words of his own youthful wisdom, Quizzical quietly
observed as the two dead horses were magically pulled into the Chariot of Horus by
his angelic beings. He hoped that Horus would have mercy on them and bless them
with eternal life. But, the events of the day suggested that Horus' mercy was limited
to talk only, rather than outright expressions of kindness and compassion. No matter,
from where Quizzical stood, dammed or not, they were better off dead than living out
their senior years in mind-blinded slavery that fear-coerced them to continue feeding
the lies of the Assembly of Horus' One Religion For One Kingdom of Horses to the
young—poisoning and imprisoning the minds of the very impressionable future of all
Horse-kind.
Tragically, it was these very dead individuals who had truly believed
themselves to be righteous—constantly uttering liturgical reassurances to themselves
and others while, for all practical purposes, practicing their religious incantations of
mental conditioned programming upon themselves in order to keep on keeping on in
the faith of Horus. No, of a certainty, they were better off dead, than to go on

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deceiving themselves and others. It was kind of funny. In a twisted, sick, sort of way,
Horus truly had shown them his mercy—mercy which appeared to always sting of
death.
A wayward glance from one of the angelic beings caused Quizzical to seek the
cover of a cluster of nearby brush, as a searing thought suddenly pierced his
awakened mind: The Great Fence of Horace was no barrier to Horus at all, for,
after all, Horace had created the Great Fence of Horace. What if Horus were to
send his angelic beings after him? That would be a logical response of a god who
enjoyed inflicting his great displeasure with acts of deadly vengeance—especially,
since Quizzical was now a condemned horse, according to the Sacred Words of
Horus.
His years of religious orientation training, of mental conditioning
programming, at the hands of those older and wiser horses screamed for him to
repent, and beg for forgiveness. He should jump that Great Fence of Horace, once
more, in repentance, and bravely take whatever Horus judged his fate to be. The tug
of old thinking was clearly making its presence known and, as always, that old
thinking was based upon fear. It was all too easy to fall back into the rut of thinking
that was not thinking freely at all.
But, amazingly, Horus did not seem to be aware, or have noticed, that he had
jumped the Great Fence of Horus to go to the beyond of the outside world—nor did
his entourage. Horus and his angelic beings were far too preoccupied with tending
to the dead to take notice of the living, which was a bit confusing to Quizzical's overly
quizzical mind. It was confusion that would definitely bear some serious future
pondering and contemplative thought.
That was when an all encompassing thought hit him: There were the angelic
beings, and those older and wiser horses always spoke as if Horus was right in the
midst of them all. But, if that were so, then why was it that he could not see Horus?
The Sacred Words of Horus were said to have declared that Horus had said, “Let us
make Horse-kind in our image, after our likeness.” Something was terribly amiss.
Unless … Unless, Horus was invisible. How could that be if all Horse-kind was
created in his image? What image? How can there be an image, if you can't see an
image? How can you truly know who and what you are if your eyes cannot see the
very god whose image you are reputed to have been created in? Such a lack of
vision, as visibly viable evidence, allowed for tremendous latitude of embellishment
left solely to the discretion of the ancient sages and those older and wiser horses.

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 Quizzical had never, in his life, heard of an invisible horse, especially an
invisible horse who lived in the sky—keeping an eye on when bad horses lie. Further
contemplation brought to light of mind that Horus' angelic beings, actually, bore no
resemblance to any breed of horse he had ever seen or heard of. Rather, they bore
an almost eerie resemblance to descriptions of the primitive wicked humans of
ancient horse-mythology, long before the Sacred Words of Horus were given to all
Horse-kind by the ancient sages.
According to that ancient myth, Horus had created the Great Fence of Horus
as a barrier to those evil creatures in order to keep such predators from—the beyond
of the outside world—entering Horus' Kingdom of Horses to feast upon Horse-kind
hoof and flesh—and haul them away captive to be ridden as lowly enslaved cattle
suffering a fate far worse than that of any poor miserable horse afflicted with
bloodsucking ticks and flies upon its back. Ticks and flies were simply horrible
creatures that could easily ride a good horse to death in times of plague brought
upon horses because of the unrepentant sins of all Horse-kind.
In that briefest moment of defined singularity of uninhibited, untainted,
thinking, his mind swept away in the timelessness of contemplative meditation—
afforded by the sheltering presence of that small cluster of brush that almost lovingly
hid him from direct view of the Chariot of Horus' angelic beings—new thoughts
continued their debut coalescence within his consciousness. His mind was abuzz with
the euphoria of instantaneously emergent thoughts and questions—questions he
would likely never know the answers to, but their newly birthed cries, within his
rejuvenated mind, demanded they be carefully examined as viable possibilities that,
only a short while ago, were unmentionable thoughts of heresy.
But, did he dare utter such words of blasphemy, even within the confines of his
own mind? Yes, he must, for there was no one else whom he could trust, but himself,
as the words that dared question the order of horse existence began flowing forth as
a living spring of newfound freedom of thought: Could it be, there is no Horus, no
personal god in the sky looking directly down upon all Horse-kind, to hear their
prayers, intercede in their lives, and visit them on the rare occasions the Sacred
Words of Horus referred to as The Day of Horus? If such were true, then, this could
only mean that The Day of Horus Transubstantiation Memorial meal was no Holy
Communion of transubstantiation shew-grass at all, but a purely concocted sham
that would have ignorant horses believing that they were dining upon the delectable
flesh of god, himself, when all they were, more likely, consuming was a well placed

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tasty bribe to placate any witnesses to the luring, upon pain of death, of those older
and wiser horses away from Horus' Kingdom of Horses. But, for what possible
reason?
Could it be, the ancient sages created Horus as god in an attempt to explain
how horses came to be—an attempt to answer a question they, honestly, possessed no
verifiable answer to?
But, why would the ancient sages hide such a profound truth from all Horse-
kind?
A logic based answer, of speculative clarity, shot through his being like an
illuminating bolt of lightening: Perhaps, the ancient sages had created the tale of
Horus and his Sacred Words in order to protect all Horse-kind from a reality they, in
their elitist arrogance, presumptuously assumed was beyond the masses of Horse-
kind's intellectually immature comprehension?
Though young in years in comparison to those older and wiser horses,
Quizzical had learned a few things about the baser characteristics of Horse Nature:
There is always a price to be paid for protection. Those who protect you are always
in positions of authority over you. Authority, in almost every instance, is equivalent
to power. Power is equivalent to control. Control is always equivalent to
Ownership.
Could it also be, that the religious-elite leadership of all Horse-kind were
careful to maintain, both, power and control, while perpetrating, yet, another lie—a
lie created to deceive the masses of horses into believing an elusive illusion of
freedom when they were truthfully owned as mere property, as well as believing that
Horse-kind, and the world upon which they resided, was central in utmost
significance in relation to the expanse of the Universe as all Existence—a lie that had
all Horse-kind duped into asserting that, as insignificant as their world appeared to
be in relation to the Universe at large, Horus had, in fact, created and designed the
Universe, as Existence, around his divine plan of predestination preparation for the
salvation of all Horse-kind, except for the sinners, unbelievers, blasphemers, and
those shameful horses of little faith?
Could there be an inescapably unalterable reality of logic irrevocably
dictating, for a fact, that, the True Creative Source of all that is and will ever be, for
whatever reason—it only stood to reason that there must be a Creative Source of
some type, some kind, some where or, else, the Universe and all within it had,
somehow, managed to pull itself out of the arse of its own existence within Existence

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—had chosen to not consider Horse-kind to be as god-all-mighty significantly
important to The Creation Process in Existence as Horse-kind naively, and
facetiously, believed themselves to be? Was it all, really, a lie?
Could it be, the True Creative Source, as An Ultimate Source Point Of Origin
Of All Existence, simply had bigger fish to catch, a greater purpose for All Creation
than Horse-kind alone? After all, He had given Horse-kind life within Existence. A
horse could pray until hoarseness forbade him neigh, but He had given Horse-kind
all He would ever give them. He most certainly owed them nothing. They could
learn to adapt to the harshness of The Laws of Nature set in motion to govern the
Universe of Existence or they could perish, for even the brightest of stars eventually
cease their shining existences. Nothing within Existence was designed to exist
forever. The established laws of nature, observed by Horse-kind, forbade the
existence of anything in Existence existing perpetually forever. The only believable
possibility of anything that might be construed as remaining in existence on a forever
basis would be that Unseen, Unknowable, Unrecognizable, Unidentifiable,
Inexplicable, True Creative Source which indelibly created all that is and will ever
be.
And, if all of these newborn free thinking speculations of his emancipated mind,
formulated prevalently as questions, should prove to be historically and factually
true?
Much like the consequences of munching upon a tearfully eye stinging wild
onion, consumed layer by layer out of desperation driven hunger for truth,
Quizzical's common horse-sense was undergoing an accelerated transformation, of
heightened sequential enlightenment, manifested as pervasive cognizance of an
absolute reality culminating in a central core of undeniable truth: If, indeed, his
speculative thinking were true, then, if there is no Horus, there is no promise of
salvation or eternal life, and, hence, there is no eternal life to be had by any horse,
anywhere—regardless of whether they live their lives righteously within the confines
of Horus' kingdom of horses or choose to jump the Great Fence of Horus, as sinners,
to go to the beyond of the outside world, for there is no eternal reward and there is
no eternal damnation—and, thus, living this life to the fullest freedom of seeking after
all the happiness a horse can muster is all that there is—all there will ever be. There
is nothing more to be had, for horses are simply here as are wild flowers upon the
plains, until that cycle of life—set in motion by the laws of nature—which brought
about their existence, completed itself in returning them to the very nonexistence from

As Free As Horses by Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn Page 19

whence they had sprung forth. Without doubt, this line of reasoning appeared more
logical than the false promises of religion …
“To hell with religion!” Quizzical snorted to himself.
His head seemed to be bursting with exhilarating thoughts and speculation that
allowed him to consider every possibility of everything he ever believed to be true …
It might take him years for his new found thinking to coagulate in firm belief of things
ascertained as fact based truth—if ever … Even if such a goal were never attained,
the journey would be one enjoyed in full freedom of thought based upon having made
a cognizant decision to learn, once and for all, to think for himself ...
Were there doubts and fears? Most assuredly, there were. But, there was one
thing Quizzical knew for a salivating certainty: The grass tasted mighty damn good
this side of the Great Fence of Horus, and his freshly enlightened mind, in having
tasted such scrumptiously delicious forbidden fruit, could see no sense in turning
back now. If he was doomed to a life alone and by himself, he'd best get used to
thinking for himself. How would he make it? What dangers lurked beyond that
distant horizon? Would he be able to survive? Clearly, his worst enemy would be
found between his horse's ears as fears he might foolishly allow to return to the
harbored perimeters of his own mind—the danger of falling back into that rut of mind
enslaving old thinking. New thinking brought new worries, but also brought new
ideas and dreams of traveling to lands he had never seen before. Whether he would
live or die, damned or not, he would just have to jump that fence when he came to it,
and it, sure as hell, would not be the Great Fence of Horus. For he now knew that
no fence, no matter how great, could prevent him from discovering new wonders that
would ever entreat him, further, to continue on: To go to the beyond of the outside
world, wherever that might lead.
What's more, it was becoming ever clearer that the Sacred Words of Horus
were full of contradictions, contradictions that prohibited horses from jumping the
Great Fence of Horus to go to the beyond of the outside world—a profundity
exhibited as a preponderance of certainty—when it was all too obvious that, upon the
event of each climactic Day of Horus coming and going, the Chariot of Horus did, in
fact, dare to go to the beyond of the outside world—and this without any apparent ill
effects. Horus was guilty of violating his own Sacred Words. Therefore, Horus could
not be god. And if Horus was truly not god, who, exactly, were his angelic beings?

As Free As Horses by Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn Page 20

 ***

Jolted out of his contemplative reverie by the bull-like bellowing that always
preceded the departure of the Chariot of Horus, a rising new fear made it appear
most imperative that he should make urgent haste to get the hell gone while the
gettin' was good. He could philosophize upon the plains of greener, safer, pastures—
elsewhere, and far less deadly. Hell, for all he knew, maybe there was a pretty young
filly out there, somewhere, just waiting for another sinner to happen along. One
thing for certain, if he ever met that filly, he would raise his offspring to make their
own decisions—to be free thinkers. Because, he had learned, of a surety this day,
that the only true sin, other than that of harming others, was that of wasting a good
mind on horse-shit fairy-tale lies fabricated by horses unworthy of your trust—or
your respect ...
Not without some sense of loss for all the friends and loved ones he was leaving
behind in Horus' Kingdom of Horses, Quizzical turned back to take one last look at
the Chariot of Horus—that rut of old thinking tugging heavily upon him, as he was
sure it would for quite some time to come, before at long last being relegated to the
shadowy mists of a past that had sought to enslave him just as it had all those older
and wiser horses like Lazy. He realized, now, that, it was not only that old Lazy was
too lazy to learn to think for himself—allowing others to do your thinking and
decision making for you is truly easier, but not very wise—Lazy's life terminating sin
was not that of allowing fear to override his faith in Horus, but that of allowing fear
of learning to think for himself to consume him. And, ultimately, it did.
In the distance, with the Chariot of Horus making its way back towards the
distant horizon, a direction he would not be pursuing this day, he could barely make
out what appeared to be the Sacred Words of Horus scrawled upon its side. He, now,
had his doubts that they truly portrayed the meaning that old Lazy went to his death
believing: “Horus Saves.” What was a tongue based upon horseshit actually worth
—anyway? And so, Quizzical decided to get physical in making tracks toward
officially beginning his journey of self awareness and self determination, in choosing
to think for himself for the rest of his horse's life. He only wished that he could
understand the meaning of that ancient scrawling and know for himself the true
meaning of those Sacred Words. Perhaps, one day he would. But by that time, would
it really matter?

As Free As Horses by Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn Page 21

 ____________

Clearly, in accordance with the state sponsored Organized Religion of his day,
Quizzical was on that highway to hell, for whom the bell tolls, where bravery is
required of mice and men—and most especially, horses. Yet, men forget that not all
walls and fences of confinement are visible to the naked eye. Most fences are erected
and created within the confines and prisons of our own hearts and minds, for once
the mind is taken captive, the body feels inclined to follow—and obey. We live in a
society that allows us the elusive illusion of freedom, while in truth we are slaves to
Organized Religion, Governments, and Corporate Powers on high that pull puppet
strings, sight unseen, as The Power Behind The Thrones 3. The error of mankind, as a
whole, is to allow others to lead us and imprison us within the confines of our own
minds, and mesmerize us with such delusions of freedom that do not truly exist. It is
time to break the shackles of our captivity in learning to think for ourselves as
Freethinkers4 ...

(Written April 11th, 2016 & Revised & Expanded June 6th, 2018)

3 The Powers Behind The Thrones—https://www.scribd.com/document/316098871/The-Power-Behind-the-Thrones-by-Marvin-Thomas-Cox-Flynn

4 Freethinker—To borrow a short paragraph definition from my article, The Road To All Too Soon, a Freethinker is: “... any person who is willing to
accept and explore the possibility that everything they were ever taught to believe as an established truth may not actually be true—and that honestly,
selflessly, and diligently in search of that which is true, rather than choosing to cling, blindly, to accepted and commonly held truths.”

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