Light's irony

running from or to?

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1. Light's irony

So we ran, for no reason

Laughing at nothing and at all.

Through dead streets, through pale light,

The night at our backs, the dawn approaching.

In front of our tiny eyes.

 

In a few hours we would look and see,

our dirty shoe-less feet,

we would feel our aching muscles.

But not now.

 

Right now there is no thought, there is no mind.

It is primal urge,

instinct to keep running,

to survive at all costs.

 

A pack of animals, once described as friends.

Shackles of correctness and orthodoxy matter not,

when fear of the dark surges you forward,

and the promise of a better future stands within reach.

 

All there is, is the one, the person, the self.

You can see the others but you do not feel them.

 

Feeling is a sense.

Stone against foot,

wind against face

and a battering ram against the left side of the chest.

 

A need, a thirst will allow you to keep on running,

when all others have stopped.

No matter how fit they will succumb to what's behind.

However fatigue cannot ail someone,

who runs on strength of will,

not strength of body.

 

A pack to begin with,

a lone wolf at the end,

only one can reach the orb of light,

as it rises over the horizon.

 

Whilst to touch it is to die, it must be better than living an eternity in darkness.

It must be.

 

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