My favorite thing right now is a night-time run; not super
late, but around 8 or 9 or 10 p.m. It’s just about the hour when restaurants
are beginning to empty, the cars are beginning to whisk away and those who are
brave enough to continue walk into the fine watering holes for a nightcap or
some revelry. The streets begin to sigh, finally able to relax after a hard day’s
work, expanding and contracting underneath the mighty weight of human trouble.
The buildings slumber, no longer annoyed at man-made stress. The lights hum to
no one in particular. And my only companion is my shadow, racing ahead me,
following my light footsteps or keeping pace. The only sounds are my breathing,
the occasional car engine and the feint din whenever I approach a bar. The
sidewalks are empty like a wide open field for me to run though; open spaces in
a crowded city. I duck in and out of darkness and artificial light. And every
now and then I can see the moon or feel its touch peak through the forest of
skyscrapers.
There’s no need for sun, what withers life away.
There’s no need for rest, when men put their worries off for
the next sunrise.
There’s no need for bright, where truth hides in plain sight.
I prefer what lurks in shadows.
These are my runs. These are my nights.
