A Horse of a Different Element

I present myself to the steps of the cathedral. I gaze at the steeple's pea, a visionary outlet. Service is closed for the day, thought I find its help connection of own. The alley of the side shows a rusted a staircase. A gift for my curiosity. They elevate to a level I anticipate. A blackened fence halts me, it asks for my passport. I leap its exterior in response. The conductor peacefully allows my passing. I meet the stairwell in a grass patch. The creek of each step quiets my own. Now I am concerned by a gap of bricks. A deadly distanced launch. Hesitation does not oppose me, I glide my path to the roof of the sanctuary. My impact of land shatters the air, my oxygen finds resources. The gust recuperates. Balancing the axle's tip, my sight meets the point. Point of the steeple, tip of the steeple. Springing into a grasp, my body introduces itself to the wall. My fingers digging in the bricks, my limbs allow me to elevate. The post begins to thin, my journey simplifies. Shimmy, my primary technique. In conclusion, I am perched, my eyes oversee the ghetto. I roll straight, forward in direction. I soar through the roads, the people ignore the art. An issue of none, I just ride the windy horse.