POEM 108: RUNNING
Soren Kierkegaard once said
Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste
that they hurry past it;
I've been running this fast lane
against limbs swifter than mine.
I left home and warmth of my dame
chasing dreams amidst echoes of her teary goodbye.
I see limbs maneuvering the streets
like master athletes
this limbs of mine can only moonwalk
can only run with my tongue
with which words I weave
across the mountains and the sea
singing 'home, oh sweet home'
waiting for the iron to be hot
so I could strike that epic strike
and send the ball into the post...
Had I known those cheers
were not accolades but jeers
I wouldn't wait till the iron is hot
before I swing my wobbly feet;
but would've made the iron hot
by teaching my feet how to run
when at dawn the cockerel horn
Soren Kierkegaard once said
Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste
that they hurry past it;
I've been running with sluggish haste
yet I seem not to reach the summit.
- Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu
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