To Marcy Howard
In the present day and age, do we run to or do we run from,
Things we don’t understand, as we pretend we’re having fun,
Do old habits become the hurdles, slowing down our time,
And when life seems to injure us, we tell everyone we’re fine.
Some might race to a dollar, propelled by inner greed,
And if we run toward a profit, we leave behind our own need,
Is happiness considered a hurdle, an emotion we avoid,
With pain the prize we really win, a racing heart another’s toy.
Is it possible to win a race, that we never really ran,
And can we determine along the way, who’s a foe and who’s a fan,
Can the heart control how fast we run, as sweat drips from our brow,
Does the mind control the distance, to or from, somehow.
If running becomes all we know, we lose things we already won,
Leaving us no way to see, that love long ago begun,
Though our feet may be standing still, it seems we both still run inside,
With thoughts and memories a constant pain, internal running how we hide.
Though its the heart that seems to run, the reasons live in the mind,
The soul no longer needs to run, in dreams its you I find,
There is no place that love can hide, it abides inside your face,
And without you in my arms, each day, we’re running in place.