I Run

I run, I run, a hurried stride,

Where peace and stillness softly hide.

No space to breathe, no time to pause,

Just chasing phantom, endless causes.

The air grows thin, my chest constricts,

A silent scream my spirit clicks.

To slow, to stop, to feel the ground,

Where seeds of solace might be found.

But onward, onward, whips the fear,

Of falling back, of slipping here.

A frantic dance, a restless chase,

Lost in the whirlwind of this race.

And yet, a voice, faint and low,

“Perhaps the race you need to slow,

Is not the one you physically run,

But the one where stillness is undone.”