Under the Fleeing Sun

by Matthew D. Rowe

Under the fleeing sun,

we run,

we run.

 

Our legs move us

through unanswerable

questions,

 

past unrequited

passion,

 

and into a boxed realm

of miraculous

certainty.

 

When we arrive

we realize,

certainly,

that where we want to be

is always on the run,

 

under the fleeing sun.

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