The race is in my head,
But I feel it in my body, too.
Thoughts that roam,
And branch off like roots,
It’s like walking through the Sahara,
With a water bottle that was forgotten.
Dry mouth, shriveled heart,
But I walk further and further on.
Something greater sustaining this life.
Creator, revive this heart again,
What’s passionless is useless.
Pump life into these waterless veins of mine.
And you say, “Move”.
Move like the breeze that can’t be seen, but felt.
Move like the shifting land that moves naturally and unforced.