The Heritage

Eyes closed we see the world
running
through open fields towards the dawn.
Step one…step two…gallop…
like a herd of wild stags running,
like a momentary dream.
Who’s behind and what’s in front? Who knows…who asks…
Running.
Rebel ghosts of time through each soul
running;
and their footprints burn and never fade…
our dreams - our engine, our open eyes, our world,
the heritage –
are yawning, put to sleep by those
who say
that nothing brave
exists.

(2006)