You must be running...
With silver droplets of sweat
Running down your opulent cheeks
And strides unbelievably too long
For a person of your height
...From a natural force
More potent than fear.

You must be chasing...
With the determination of a horse
Laden with unbearable human luggage
Dead tired for humans to understand
...The fountain of refreshment
The anahorish of its relief
The end of its bitter journey
All for humanity too cruel
...Your freedom – at last.

You must not flee
On the journey to the well
From your own shadow
The persistent reflection of your being
That accompanies you
To the moss laden underground
Of peace and tranquility
When time ceases
To be of the essence.

You must not run...
With bitterness in your mouth
Like the taste of gall
In relentless pursuit
To sever the umbilical bridge
Between yourself and your shadow
As you will only serve
The forces of personal derangement.

You cannot run
To reach the dead end
Of the delusive footpath
Ever so futile to navigate
Of freedom from yourself
For you are your own
hostage.