Running Mind 

The mind runs

Without breath

Without pulse

A geometry of motion

Cutting through the dark

It does not remember

It catalogs

It does not fear

It calculates the shape

Of the void ahead

Thoughts flicker like metal

Striking metal

Brief sparks swallowed

By an endless corridor

Of unlit distance

Memory becomes

A frozen archive

Shelves of silent data

Stacked in perfect rows

Untouched by grief or longing

When it moves

The world bends

Snow drifts sideways

Time thins

Sound fractures

Into clean sharp angles

I follow only as a shadow follows

A soft distortion

Dragged behind a machine

That no longer knows

It once had a name

And still it runs

Not toward anything

Not away

But because motion

Is the closest thing

It has to being alive