I learned to run from an early age
I’ve been running ever since
Running through life
Running away
What if, I
Stop?
Tristan Barnard
BSc Wood & Wood Product Science,
STELLENBOSCH UNIVERSITY
This poem is short but poses the question, do we escape life by continuously running forward towards abstract goals with all encompassing determination and could this be to our detriment? Do we allow life to pass us by? To run through or fingers to be cursed with the realisation in old age?
