To run the simulacrum of a race
in microgravity high above the air,
eyes focused firmly on our sphere
feet on a treadmill in outer space;
that seems so odd in a small place,
a little hut located just up there
where burdens should be easier to bear;
this is a gesture of enchanted grace.
What thoughts come looking on this ball
where human life seethes and explodes,
while racing in a city far below?
Emotions formed running in free-fall
give sense and meaning to imagined roads
which we on earth may never truly know.