Let’s say,
you are running,
as fast as you can,
but not as fast as you want to;
there you foot lands, and you lament
its an inch shorter, a moment slower,
than how your heart races;
your arms are stretched,
as if you want to swim in the air,
or hold the air and pull it back;
with all your might, you push yourself
forward;
you feel your nostrils,
you feel the air inside your lungs,
on your forehead there are drops
of perspiration forming into tiny
water dollops;
your heart is raging, pulling you;
your blood burning you till the tip of your fingers,
till the tip of your nose and your pulsing lips,
your ruddy ears;
your eyes frown in your struggle;
you gasp, hard, deep, desperate;
your veins swell, and your muscle
spasm with short, reckless rhythms,
as if your were a song.
Now, why would you do that,
If not for love ?
