at two, you learn to run,
and it seems like fun.
when you get going you don’t really know
if you go where you want to go.
at five, you simply run.
when school is done
and you go out to play
all you want to do is let your legs flay.
at fifteen, you run after pleasure
and nothing can measure
up to the joy of discovering
a new thing that’s exciting.
at twenty-five, you run for fun
because you know there is none
that can get you despondent
in your pursuit of merriment.
at thirty-five, you run against time.
every clock that can chime
reminds you that you have to feed
several souls full of greed.
at forty-five, you run to get away
every time the sun greets the day
all you want is to escape
from all the red tape.
at fifty-five, you run to save
so you have to be really brave
to attain the grace
that you promised yourself in the first place.
at sixty-five, you run only if you have to
but you really don’t want to
because you’re tired of the dreary
race to destiny.
at seventy-five, you realize that you’ve been
(and that you really should have seen
much earlier in the day)
that you were running the wrong way.
sv: 21st July 2009
for some reason the titular phrase has been stuck in my head for days, so I thought i’d start writing again with this in mind as the theme.
