Running, the simple purity of it.
When it’s done I’m drenched and tired, but cleansed. So much more than clean or
clear. Cleansing has a holy tone to it. Not stitched up but healed, the pieces
brought back together so that cracks can retreat and vanish, like a bad dream. There’s
a holy touch to it, reborn in the purity and unity of a simple act. No doubts,
no drifting thoughts wandering off to stumble on concerns or fears. It’s all
washed away, leaving only the purity of self.
And so I laugh, because I can.
