The Marathon

My headphones are bleeding your music

The music of angels vanishing at night

Frozen souls ambulating freely

across the vast emptiness of space

This isn't a race although you're winning

There's no finish line although you're already there

There's no prize although you've won it

There's no throne although you're the rightful heir

Flickering images of past desires

The waves of eternity colliding into one

We're bound to get closer somehow

If only we had legs to run