The Treadmill
Slowing down the motor,
running low on gas
The lies, the HOV lane,
the truth off in the grass
The speed counterproductive,
it warps and then transforms
The magic in the stillness,
the beauty heaven born
The light becomes a blurring,
as darkness settles in
Till stepping off the madness,
and travelling within
That fatal rush to judgment,
a quiet now sustains
One choice to stop the treadmill,
—all motion rearranged
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2017
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