Poem: Movement

Sprint if you can,

Jog if you must,

Sometimes you’ve just gotta walk,

One step in front of the other,

Leisurely,

Crawl if you can’t do nothing else,

inch by inch,

Onwards.

 

As both, the shadow of the rising sun and the setting sun wash upon you,

As the pale moonlight bathes you,

As complete darkness enshrouds you,

At the beginning, in the middle, at the end and beginning again,

Moving.

 

At the pace you can manage,

Every so often testing your limits,

Crawling to walking to jogging to sprinting,

The rhythmic strides and the stumbles go hand in hand,

Until the eternal stop,

The only stop,

Otherwise, life is made up of movement,

Slow and fast and the in-between,

Moving up towards the ups, moving down towards the downs, moving back up, moving back down, moving, moving,

Movement.

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