Run In Fun Poem by Matt Johnson

Hundreds are the choices, thousands are the thoughts
Garbled all together as a stew within the pot
Daily from this brew at times of simmer or of rage
Need pour forth words of value to place upon the page

When viewed from an onlooker, it just can not be done
When viewed to close myself, I know that the garbled won
Yet pulling back and with a breath of stirring inspiration
As troops within the fog of war do rally for the nation

Yet none of us do see the nation, only we see neighbors
As often when we need refreshed we all recall our labors
So what we see or think or know are parts but not the whole
The bread we bake has secret items hidden in the dough

And so the flavor of the words tastes bitter or tastes sweet
By tiny unseen choices that we make when we each meet
And hope we give or take away as though by slight of hand
Do scar or heal upon the earth, all by the hand of man

So if you choose, choose gently, among the muddled masses
And if you do, do kindly, not regarding of the classes
That when you reach within the pot and hope to find the treasure
Your reaching will not harm as others try to take the measure

Now laying down defenses that so naturally we placed
We look to God to help us each as we run in the race
So odd that now the former goal of winning as I run
I find replaced with joy to run with others and have fun