The Escapist

She runs
Across the vast desert
That has become her life
The coarse sand
Pricking her bare feet

she runs

She runs
Never catching a breath
Dawn to dusk
Season in , season out
A flight to keep her sane
Against too painful a world
she runs

She runs
Against the droughty winds
Of the hot mistless days
She finds no rest
Even in the cooler evening breeze
Nor the gentle calm air of the night
That seemingly would paint a relieve

she runs

She runs
Yet, across her path
Comes the revered saving Angel
That deep down she so would wish
For a momentarily encounter with
Still she runs
Past His clear essence
Too daunted to spare Him a look
Hope blurred by a past
Of several visiting dark angels

she runs

She runs
Not even the galloping horses
Of the persistent knight
With all his armor and shine
Can match up to her swift feet
A heart on a zippy flight
She runs

She runs
In pursuance of an unattainable peace
It's her escapism
Into her own painted universe

where she can find solitude
Against the hurtful multitude