We run with patience. A single step contains the infinite potential of our stride. Distance becomes the meditation of a singular movement within a flow of its expression. One step. Our thoughts wander towards places yet unreached - we find ourselves caught in a race against our own timeless nature. There is little joy beyond the present. We return. One step. The infinite unfolds from this moment.
Peace,
Eric
2 comments:
Your poetry equates your doing.
Mine...mostly dreaming.
I choose you way as better!
Poetry is doing Karilea - and that makes you a do -er of the highest order! Thank you so much for visiting and leaving a comment!
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