i feel poetic

The Runner I Watched

You ran and I was watching you run
in circles around me
Like a runner in ecstasy of winning
an illusive trophy.

Warm it was, that night.

I said plenty I realize
it must have been too much
but not enough
clearly not enough.

This torture
of inexperience is not enough
We are left with none
to begin with.

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Lune

If by reason
I need to follow
I would rather be mad.

To follow is to lose
the shine of darkness and
my world in its empty delight.

Velvety moss,
dipped in hollow verses
when I lay I look and imagine
to fly to cry.

To fly, I went
and held in my hands
the yellows, the blues, and the reds
until each dies into black abyss.

And looking down
eternal deaths in a maze
half in the glinting sun
the rest in the sight of lune.