Running

As a poet, there is no doubt in my mind that I have a tendency to over intellectualise. This often entails looking on the dark side of life. The beauty of existence is, for me tempered by the knowledge that our time here is brief. As I put it in my poem, “Passing”:

“The sun comes and goes on a cold Autumn day
And I think on fun and how quickly it passeth away.
The flower that bloomed
Is soon entombed,
Or if it blooms still
A rill
Of tears
Marks it’s all too tender years”.

None the less life i...