On the run
From place
To place,
I search ahead
For space
Might be akin,
To the images
That populate
My spent head,
With a life spin
Of purpose clear,
For I’ve but left
A meagre stay,
And far too near
Be Reaper Grim
To dog my way,
Hence I hold run
To find a stead
Of lesser haste,
Afore fate ends
This journey’s race!