It is the wealth of continuity, un-assailed, unabated, unstoppable.
Where can I go to hide from you?
You pursue me into the very depths
Of the heart I strive to keep away.
Where can I run? To whom?
Where is it that you are not?
The sweat on my brow testifies of you,
As I flee, it reminds me of why,
Bringing you closer as I try away.
The wind whispering past
Speaks of the swiftness with which
You overtake, overwhelm, overcome.
And even when I risk life itself to flee
The hope of freedom sets me back
Into the death of being loved.
Being an Object of love,
© Denis Adide 2012