The Pursuit


When I run at night
I bounce from cloud to cloud or skim across the water
Like a freshly pebbled shooting star
Light as a young yet-unknown Jesus
Swallowing tiny worlds in my own universe,
And, I too, am consumed by something bigger.

Gravel, being beat, says its name out loud
Foot beats rise and fall in reliable rhythm
Connecting me to Earth
Allowing doors to open and the soul out to explore
As the runner simply runs.

I am entranced by visions
As my feet drum the concrete
The lonely street gray and of gravel responds
With light and color
Sense and Song
The moment is shattered by a high handed howling siren
The plastic revolving police beacon breaks my reverie
But not me.

I am pursuing something too.
However, it is less definable than the criminal being pursued.

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