Saturday, 5 April 2014

How far will you run?

Like a hare, in leaps and bounds, from the hound that chases you?

Maybe till the end of your world? And then a leap beyond, only to realise that that leap made the next world yours too.

(no leap of faith, this. What faith.)

How far will you run from the rules that you set for yourself? How fast can you run? Faster than the speed of thought?

How far will you run a round and round (så går vi rundt om en enebærbusk, en enebærbusk, en enebærbusk) this vat of neurons?

Until the hound catches you, rapes you. Again.

With no peace.


And while the world dances around the juniper bough, someone somewhere is whimpering in hunger; you dance around a non-existent juniper bush, which you believe is burning.

How far will you run, min kjære, before you curl up into a cringe and whimper.
I'll run as far as need be, to rise from the ashes.
To run again, yes?

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