A Gentle Dream…


My feet are flying in the air,

Soaring apart,

Landing together on the other side,

Running forward,

Pacing lightly over the narrow brick wall.

I can’t stop,

Not now,

Not ever,

I can’t stop running,




I am running.

I am standing.




My fingers rub grit,

Grip tight,

Pull up.

I fly below the bar,

Over the balcony,

Landing on my feet,

Like a cat with more than nine lives.

It is a philosophy,

A method of moving,

A thrill,

An escape,

My life source.

I like it,

Need it,

Want it.

It’s cool,

It’s something more,

It’s something I can’t comprehend.

But it exists,

In my dream,

In life,

Where the walls,

The trees,

The bars,

The natural and manmade,

Are mine to play on.

It is not a competition,

Not a game,

Not just “something”,

It’s a discipline,

The art of displacement,

From point A,

To point B.

It’s the eyes,

The legs,

The arms,

The strength.




I won’t stop running,




I am one with mind and body,

Seeing the beginning through to the end.

I will climb the highest peak,

Fly to the lowest bottom,

Run without stopping,

Revel in being airborne.

I won’t give up,

On this gentle dream.

Can you guess what I’m talking about? (haha, I guess only those who’ve done it, seen it, heard about would probably get what I’m talking about, but enjoy anyway!! -oh yeah I should probably mention I’ve only seen it, watched it, but never really done it.  I think I like my flats too much haha)


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