I rise to fly,
As restless tides arise,
For bare as day,
I am caught in a storm of spears,
Feinting, dodging play,
As time spins, a raging top,
Speed riven, driven by hail,
One moment here, next I am gone,
Mind, a cesspool, blinding meteors nay
Searing séances, play 'catch' in the wind.
'Where shall I go? , Say
'How do I run? , from rams with burning breaths,
Minions of dimness, if rooted like a bay,
My head hurts, thoughts twinkle,
Like coins, jingling, in a swinging splay,
Scatter with each carving out own torque,
A jumble as torrential spray,
Chastens the river, overthrowing bony bank,
Chest burns, heaving like a train,
Out of sync snorting fuel,
I run, with sinews, in full sail,
Nimble,
Over tors and torrid dales,
But wait, a strange foe comes calling,
Knocks, seeps through, wagers for bones now frail,
My heart also, slows and strains,
Miser, shielding silver stents however failing,
These limbs trudge, though with footsteps foreign,
Meteors no longer, rather a tapestry of black mail,
I know, sooner than later,
As somber tidings rail,
While play stalks the tents of inevitability,
And I await these tides, with fists like nails.
YOU ARE READING
Naked Runner
PoetryWe live in chaotic times and when peradventure an implacable foe saunters into our lives, the tendency is to run from the conflicts in our lives, we are therefore vulnerable in this regard; the attempt to flee thorny issues wearies yet we must conte...
