Running in Circles
The green grass lies, as the Runner stands,
triumphant. The sun has just risen:
He runs fast, but so does the land
beneath his feet, and his Heart with them.

The day of the Race is a week
away. He fantasises winning
and works harder. The weakness
in his body is aching.

Racing across the trackless course,
weaving between the trees
like a galloping horse,
who's marching. And he sees

the light. Squints his eyes
as the darkness clears,
slowly stops; admires
the smell of sweat and tears.

Running in circles, jumping
the hurdles, now turning
around the bend. Breathing,
He forever reaches out for the end.

His shoes are weathering;
it's ignored and he continues with his lap.
The cage of his ribs is beating,
but he refuses to stop and nap.

His lungs struggle to carry his shoe's
weight, as he runs up a hill.
His mind's numb; feets bleed, but goes
refusing to surrender, still.

The Runner, taller than the mountain, cheers
before taking in a deep breath ' he wins.
Race Day is nearing, he steers
to his path, once more, begins.

Running in circles, jumping
the hurdles, now turning
around the bend. Breathing,
He forever, reaches out for the end.

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