Sometimes,
I run.
I eclipse with the natural world, and
I forget about the air
rushing from its source,
and reviving
my tired body.
Sometimes,
I use to sprint-
to cause an impeccably secure ache that I could
control;
to the closest option of what I thought to be instant
gratification-
to the middle of the road,
straying from safety and sometimes reason.
Every time,
My mind spurts from its base.
Running from its own thoughts,
bound to
escape
the constant disorientated woefulness-
its dreary melancholy.
But…
Every time
I run,
my body reaches the invisible finish line,
and it keeps pushing, never giving up
on itself,
always constantly empowering my mind
to run in the same direction
of that warm light-
to let it touch my face, and find a place
to let its positivity take root.
Every time
I sprint,
I let my perception of the dirt under my shoes,
be the natural grounds
for understanding that every single grain gets
shifted
to a better post,
and that it all ultimately finds a way to
bind together to create solid ground.