I ran to run towards and away.
I ran to move.
Like a shark, I would die, if I did not move.
Columns of sorrow rose up in this city.
I never perceived them before.
It took near-fatal heartbreak,
To become sensible
To the near-fatal heartbreak that is like fabric,
The warp and the weft.
You threw a javelin.
How did you have such perfect aim?
And I, compelled to run,
Cannot remove it, or I will die outright.
What a heavy object with which to move.
What weight I bear because of you (because of me).