They call me by the names they have for me, I like to call myself ‘The Marathon Runner’.
There is a derelict house on my left, I regret the times I ignored the bliss this place exuded. I see people deserting similar houses and tears stream down my face, I’ve lost this forever, it cannot be replaced. Is there a possibility that this house can be restructured the way it was before?
If there is then I am ready to pay any cost for it, but the truth would never let me prevail.
As I am running, I come across a well decorated manhole. It was unmanned when I last visited. They say you are a fool if you err more than 2 times. I have fell inside this hole many times, definitely more than twice, should I call myself a fool?
I always liked falling into this unmanned manhole, not only did it provide me with unplanned rest from this never ending marathon but also took me into a world where there were no rules. Watching the manhole covered and decorated, I am actually disappointed, but anyhow I have to move ahead so as to complete this Marathon I started.
Every person who runs a marathon needs a break in between to replenish himself. My marathon is on a path that is a peculiar circle, I move ahead and discover new roads but also come back to the things that define my past. My rehydrating spot has always been this. Two trees, standing firm as two stalwarts but that is not how they provided me sanctuary. Their branches met as they spread and they collectively provided me a shade where I can live peacefully forever. This marathon made me leave their shade quite often to explore the roads ahead and in this process as I come back after some time, I see that the branches of these trees have been cut. There is no place to rest, there is no place where I can live if I want to quit this marathon, so I keep moving ahead without my usual break, with hopes in my eyes that the next time I visit here there will be bloom.
At last I come across a path that is still under construction. I have to pass through this in order to continue. What I see is that the more I move ahead, the more this path is developing. Am I capable of creating such magic?
There is no magic, with each step I am making this unfamiliar road my friend and only a fool sees his friends as underdeveloped roads.
I run all the time and what explanation do I have for this?
Well, everyone’s life is a long marathon, I have just made a marathon my life. I guess this is my way of rubbing it on life’s face or ‘running’ it on its face. As I run I come across my past, I accept it. I am in my present, I live it. I can see my future, I believe in it.
They call me a ‘HUMAN BRAIN’ but I like to call myself ‘The Marathon Runner’.
There is a derelict house on my left, I regret the times I ignored the bliss this place exuded. I see people deserting similar houses and tears stream down my face, I’ve lost this forever, it cannot be replaced. Is there a possibility that this house can be restructured the way it was before?
If there is then I am ready to pay any cost for it, but the truth would never let me prevail.
As I am running, I come across a well decorated manhole. It was unmanned when I last visited. They say you are a fool if you err more than 2 times. I have fell inside this hole many times, definitely more than twice, should I call myself a fool?
I always liked falling into this unmanned manhole, not only did it provide me with unplanned rest from this never ending marathon but also took me into a world where there were no rules. Watching the manhole covered and decorated, I am actually disappointed, but anyhow I have to move ahead so as to complete this Marathon I started.
Every person who runs a marathon needs a break in between to replenish himself. My marathon is on a path that is a peculiar circle, I move ahead and discover new roads but also come back to the things that define my past. My rehydrating spot has always been this. Two trees, standing firm as two stalwarts but that is not how they provided me sanctuary. Their branches met as they spread and they collectively provided me a shade where I can live peacefully forever. This marathon made me leave their shade quite often to explore the roads ahead and in this process as I come back after some time, I see that the branches of these trees have been cut. There is no place to rest, there is no place where I can live if I want to quit this marathon, so I keep moving ahead without my usual break, with hopes in my eyes that the next time I visit here there will be bloom.
At last I come across a path that is still under construction. I have to pass through this in order to continue. What I see is that the more I move ahead, the more this path is developing. Am I capable of creating such magic?
There is no magic, with each step I am making this unfamiliar road my friend and only a fool sees his friends as underdeveloped roads.
I run all the time and what explanation do I have for this?
Well, everyone’s life is a long marathon, I have just made a marathon my life. I guess this is my way of rubbing it on life’s face or ‘running’ it on its face. As I run I come across my past, I accept it. I am in my present, I live it. I can see my future, I believe in it.
They call me a ‘HUMAN BRAIN’ but I like to call myself ‘The Marathon Runner’.
