Running is arguably a great healer of those who face dilemma.
The run makes things disappear.
While running one can’t much see present recede into past, but trust anyone that it does. Present does recede into past. Pebbles and flowers are crushed alike. But you can’t see unless you stop a moment.
You can’t see them, whom once you walked with, sat with, laughed with disappear.
You can hear them but trying to understand what they say would be futile.
Those lotus that fills the ponds, the bougainvillea that grows in your rooftop, the bright yellow dress that your mother wears or the nee blue tile in your bathroom… You can’t see all this. You can’t much smell the wet clay, not can you hear the songs of those who sing to live. You keep running and the only thing you remember to check is how fast you’re running, how quick you need to reach before you begin again. But running will heal of the cries, the slap of dirt. Running will heal you by killing you. But running will heal you. For you will reach, whether it was your place or not. Somewhere. Nobody knows where it is. Keep running. But when you hear the sound of helpless breathlessness and you smell disgust and when your feet jump too high, stop a moment. For those feet might be weary of you.