Running for the Ship


A fractal radiance

clinging to their running forms,

they hope to reach the ship

before it sails.

Sometimes the ship

is a great ocean liner,

all black and white and gold,

a ship that could

travel anywhere and

keep its magisterial cool

on the roughest seas.

Sometimes it is a shinning

glyph pointed to the stars

against a stellar backdrop,

a ship ready to sail

vast astronomical distances

in the blink of a mind.

Sometimes they race

along a long rickety

wooden pier,

washed by waves

when the tide rises.

Sometimes across

the reflective floors

of a modernistic terminal,

high-ceilinged and bright

with light and air.

Few ever reach the ship

and board in time

to make their passage.

The rest keep running

to become one

with the rest of the world.