RUN

An extra short, short. An excerpt from a larger piece i'm working on.

‘Run’. He says. ‘Faster! And don't stop. Whatever you do, do not look back, or dare think of what is
past'. My toes are beginning to bleed now. The blisters on my bare feet are bursting from the
continuous pressure placed upon them by my strenuous forward movement.
What am I running from? Who? I cannot say. Not because I don't want to, but because I do not
know. How can I leave my past behind ? How can I forget all that I have seen and felt? All that I had
once hoped for? Look forward he says, ‘What is coming; is for you, what you have left behind, you
had no claim to'. ‘How will I know what I want?' I cry.
' You'll fee it in your bones,' he responds. ‘The root of your being is far greater and far more complex
than you can even fathom. The air that kisses your skin and moves through you is not separate from
you, but a part of who you are. Your source has no end and no beginning. The dust and sand grains
you feel on your feet, the blood that flows and pours through and out of you is of this world.
Because you are the world and more'. His words sear into me, the way a sword does as it pierces it's
target. I run.