Agonotheta

Run With Me

March 26, 2004

The clip-clop of my feet upon the ground echo the rhythm of my heart.
Relaxed, my eyelids sag then spring back.
My eyes long to shut and run without sight,
Advancing in mind and body in the dark world of my own thoughts,
Seeing much more than the physical world,
Hearing much more than the music in my ears,
but sight hampers the sighted in this case.

Notions and ponderings take shape and often die a fruitless death.
But each becomes father and mother to young notions to be pondered and ponderings to be notioned.
A hundred failed conceptions gives birth to a thousand more.
Some are the kind only a mother would love.
Bastards locked away in dark pits, too ugly to emerge into the light.
Still, a mother loves these fatherless vagaries and coddles and babies them to clarity and maturity.
Physical miles are easy compared to the miles ran through my head.
I finish with a rejuvenated body and clearer mind.