Running off the course of time–
I dream so high, so big that flames
could not burn a heart made of steel,
nerves breaking to nothing, and a frown
looking at the future ahead enduring
all the misguided slings and broken rhymes,
I hold the course anyhow, eyes ahead–
I’m running off the course of time.

Little high, little low, the world seems so close
at times, and beyond my reach, at times–
waves of fleeting emotions to enjoy
while they last, and fuel the road ahead
with memories not to dwell in like a cell,
but to conquer loneliness and fear–
an offbeat road after road does not guarantee
at the end of the day to have a company;
little high, little low, I keep my eyes so fixed
the prize ahead is not a better tomorrow,
the prize ahead is a better man.

Running off the course of time–
to live once –as if I knew there were more–
to pass once like an exuberant hurricane,
not to leak drop by drop with no hope–
a memory tank filled with stories of all kind
some were heard, some were told, but not made, not one–
so fragile like love is the life of man,
never care how much in there is left–
a life so spent so much in counting life
until the last breath is spent to suddenly recall
that I have never lived at all – so fumed so confined
by the tiny measure of time I do not bow to;
I am writing now, in a moment I may not last,
yet I will have lived every word I’ve said
I will be running off the course of time.

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