He ran far enough to know
that in the end there was no end;
that at the edge was a turning point;
that the pavements simply bent.

He was the chaser of suns,
almost always on the run
one foot in front of the other
but the chase was almost done

For Time was chasing him as well,
behind his back, so close
and overhead were clouds that cursed
him for the life he chose.

And in the end there was no end,
but there was no chaser, too
and Time was left alone without
anybody to run to.