Author: tzelikazoumpouli

The runner gathered
all his strength
to go on for another mile, just another mile after the next mile
Blue skies were before his eyes
Golden stars he imagined, with the sweat blurring his vision
Rivers and seas and cross-the-road-carefully
before he knew it, were passing by and were bringing
a past image long gone that looked like the future
Long gone was now his fantasy, as his feet were competing with each other
Of a world made of “unions”
Unions used to symbolize the bond of men who all run for the same purpose,
or the workers who all sang a hope-bearing lullaby to put their
children to sleep
Or the flowers which patiently equally contributed to a beautiful pattern
Or the flight of birds to a new homeland
Unions changed their meaning and became
Declarations of domination, slavery and protecting rights only of a
few, who can afford
to buy them
He run through the park of joyful belonging and blissful co-existing
This is the last mile, he reminded himself, just another mile and I am done
While he ran past a group of friends, playing with a ball,
speakers of a foreign language, he thought he heard them saying..
Did he hear that phrase?  No, he must have misheard, maybe his heart
bit was too fast maybe his pulse was too loud and he did not quite
hear
Perhaps I can run another mile, just the last one, definitely this is
the last one,
so he gathered all his strength
to go on for another mile, just another mile
Red skies were before his eyes
It’s going to rain, as per shepherd’s verdict
What a bless a rain would be, he thought and imagined his red face
washed with water
While he decelerated to hear: the same group of friends, playing with a ball
speaking a foreign language
Yes, he heard the phrase right the first time. They said in their language:
“You won’t find the fire exit, if you don’t think there is a fire”
He looked at the sky and realized: the redness was due to a big fire
The burning of the old-state-of things
He thought I know there is a fire because I am being burned
And it rained.
The runner gathered all his strength, to go on for another mile,  just
another mile after the next mile
And as the rain was falling from the red sky, and as he was looking
for the fire exit,
He realized that there was one more, two more, and another two, ten,
twenty, another ten, more, even a hundred, even more, possibly three
hundred, even more, possibly a thousand, a few thousands of people
running next to him
towards the same purpose, the Fire exit.
He smiled to himself as the golden stars in his imagination became
thousands, as many as the people who were running with him, as many as
the people in this world
In the blue skies made of red skies,
And he thought I will get to the fire exit with all these stars
A past image long gone which looked like the future echoed in his head:
This is our union.