my sight is cloaked by darkness
like a thick veil it distorts the figures before me
the road is barely visible
yet its presence become painfully obvious after a single word-- run.
there's something compelling about the feel of our morning escapade
the blackness pulls you in, grasping at your jacket
replacing your shudders at the chill with a pounding heart
accompanied by quick intakes of breath--
this crisp morning air that seems possible to crumple & crack at the pressure of your fingertips
and so you soak it in gratefully, no longer thinking of the cold
but rather the muscles that are screaming at you 'Why?!'
& the sleep-induced brain that's trying to yell 'Bed!' over the din
so I wonder why I do it
maybe its the rare moments I find beautiful & still
like when a line of blurred figures become a string of silent shadows,
silouhetted against the trees when a car creeps up from behind--
sometimes I find myself running to catch the sunrise
an anticipated beauty, untamed, & the magic of a few glimpses through the trees spurs me on
eager to obtain the colours, to end my run with the perfect backdrop
leaving just enough room for the bright revelations of a new day
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