Running

So much didn't make sense.
So much did. 
So much 
I ran away from.
So much 
from which I hid.

That much is true, 
It is those mysteries,
things I thought I knew,
those beings in my mind
so terrible, 
so true.

Yet they exist 
only there.
 
No where else 
are they laid bear.

I run from nothing
and nothing 
runs from me.

I only know 
that I know,
I only run from myself,
I am free to be,
only me,
no one 
or nothing else.