Meditation on Running

Out there on the road I can confront my demons, and

stand face-to-face with them. Out there, more than

anywhere else, they are as human, and as broken, as I am.

Every step—and every step—and every step more—

I tread on each and every one of them.

I know you're better this—I know you're better this—

You are better than this—You aren't a piece of shit—

The physical exertion of it is tied directly to an unlinking of sorts,

a tearing away from the form that carries you along like some

ponderous weight. It is like you are a freed bird that has been caged

for most of its life, ascending into the air and finally becoming

what it was always supposed to have been.

Swept along with the music in your ears, with waves of

freedom taking you away from the hard, worn world of your life,

to some ineffable ecstasy of biochemistry and pure will.

All ignited and propelled by just a bit of psychical energy;

energy millions of years in the making,

and here induced on this stretch of road.

OK—you can do this—you can do this—you can do this—

I run toward something unreachable, knowing that
I have already reached it; reached peace in the distance.
I run not to run away, but to run into something better.
I run not to run away, but to run into something greater.

I give away the gift of guilt; I take off this harness of anxiety.
I leave behind the darkness of my body and mind.
I run not to run away; I run to return to where I began.

M.M.