Wooshy and futuristic
Just out of the corner of my eye, that thing I had been running towards, to, seeking

It moved
With a woosh and a blur
And me left here behind
Without outward direction
Spinning to find the horizon, when did the sun go down? How had it become so late?
I felt old and breathy and hot
I felt like I no longer knew things
I had never known things
Things had never been allowed to know me
Running so long
I lay down in the green moist grass
I watched the ants
Where were they hurrying to?
Would it even be there when they arrived?
Was there an arrival place?


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ganymeder over 10 years ago

An interesting poem!

MitchRudeen (joined over 13 years ago)

Raconteur and Roust About

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