Put the sun at your back and run headlong toward the darkness. Killing days at record speed, leaning into the terminus, and you wake up in the light and prepare for another westward run.
Westward Run [Free Verse]
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What a way to live one's life, in a cabin made of wood; never to be governed by: "I have to! I must! I should!" To set one's sights on the day's needs as one's only master, and not be told, "you move too slow, you must live life faster." To start the day by a cue from rays of the rising sun. To end the day when the day ends, not only just've begun.