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
Your poetry equates your doing.
ReplyDeleteMine...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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