Beneath the waves, a flash of white. Beneath the rails a disturbance in the dirt. Beneath your feet; between the cracks. Step where you may, but do not worry where you step. Do not walk: run.
Your quarry is always just ahead. Around the corner, around the corner. Seemingly out of reach, but always leaving a whisper of itself behind, a promise of what you cannot have. But you can.
Your philosophy eludes you. That meaning in your life that you have cobbled together from so many breaks and repairs. That faith like a threadbare blanket that keeps you “warm enough”. But the chill pervades, like icy fingers on your spine and this feeling is not fear but excitement; it is the promise that your prey represents. It is the answer you are seeking.
Do not give up. You are so close now. You have always been so close.
Your prey, your philosophy, your answer may still evade you. It always slips away, just out of reach.
Just out of reach. And you will run, or you will sail, or you will ride the rails and you will strain; you will strain.
Your muscles will hurt and your eyes will grow dry and your eyes will grow wet. And the burning in your muscles will become too much and you’ll be sure you can’t run any more that you can’t lift your legs, and you’ll convince yourself that there’s no point, that your prey will always elude you; that you will never catch your philosophy.
And maybe you won’t; but that’s not the point. The important bit is to keep running, keep striving, keep seeking, keep trying. The important part is to…