The Runner

The Runner

You run and you run and you run
You run from the sun while I sleep dreaming
I wake up and you’re gone yet I have so much to say.
But sometimes you think the worst of these thoughts
Because my lips don’t always move
when I’m speaking to you.

Sometimes my mind runs alongside you from afar
And sometimes my heart has things to say that are hard
Other times only my eyes speak.
But you ask me why I stare
and I answer “you don’t hear me”.

My body is an autobiography written in Braille -
An air of mostly water-filled mystery full of foreshadow-filled chapters you have yet to sail.
Because a quick skim of a cover tells you nothing about its contents.
When these skin and bones are engraved with stories yet to be told to generations who are not here yet
And inaudible sayings that need excavating
But I cannot convince you to read
And you don’t have room for these pages
On the place where you put your coffee.

I write and I write and I write
While you run away with my words
Replacing blank space with potential
Putting footprint on sand and soil
We paint our own two worlds
That each needed created
While you run briskly beneath shading trees
I write on them slowly in ripped apart pieces

You run and I write
And we fight hard to keep
Searching for something that was there all along
It’s a long return lap
On an unsearchable map
So I’ll wait here for you
Alone,
Instead,
Asleep.

@itinerantartist
architect-artist | tech-enthusiast | word-curator

I’m a trained architect, designer, and artist working at the intersection of technology and the built environment.

Apart from poetry, painting and developing my “Handwritten Reveries” series, I dance tango, ride my beloved vintage BMW motorcycle everywhere two wheels will take me, and design innovative technologies, products, and platforms as part of a decentralized organization of passionate professionals.

Find me on:

Steemit: www.steemit.com/@itinerantartist

Discord: @itinerantartist
IG: @itinerantarchitect and @handwrittenreveries