The Run

Open the tunnel and I will run gladly,

Perhaps even madly

The long, winding way.

Show me the door and I will pass through it,

For I am a poet

Looking for the day.

Long is the tunnel, and very unsteady

My feet fall. So leady

They are as I run.

But I have begun it, and I will master

The road I run. Faster!

Stop not ‘til you’ve won!

So they call to me from all the deep shadows:

The Guillotines, gallows

That threaten my way.

No, but I’m faster than all these illusions.

These dreams and confusions

Will die in the day.

Widen the tunnel for me and the words I

Pen as I would try

To seek out the light.

Feet ever pounding faster than my heart-beat

This pain I feel is sweet

As I flee the night.

One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four

Feet, yards, miles, lands and more

Through the night I fly.

‘Tis the last mile: I shake off my torments

Like black, broken garments,

And step into the sky.