Running on the Lifeline of the Eternal Harpist

    Running, running, running. Such constant words dwell and pace amongst the crowded depths of my mind.
    Various shades of scarlet tints paint the tall trees that suddenly blur as the decrepit soles of my feet intertwine with the everlasting rush of my psyche. The sky is cleansed with calming nightfall.
    As the familiar trees dance and speak before me, their hushed words are as significant as a delicate whisper, and even the fragile herd of deer grimace charismatically in their innocence, although they comprehend the happening that shifts on the golden line that glows  upon the Trail in the dark before them.
    Prickling warmth overwhelms such worn heels beneath me; releasing, flourishing within my experienced soul. The intimate atmosphere narrows at the sides of my physical embodiment , and the Spirit that aches within my aura forces itself outward, freeing herself.
    Chimes, she whispers, I can hear chimes. She has been amazingly mistaken. She hears softened strings. My elegant spirit hurries beside me, using the fertile moon as her guidance. I crave the urge to halt, to contemplate the surroundings that my sudden departure is soon to abandon, but such spliced toes continue without  consideration to obey my commands.
    Everything hurts, I whisper within the darkest depths of myself, what is wrong with me? As I look up I see the eyes of Him and he smiles that wicked, twisted, infatuated smile. A bear howls in the distance.“Farewell”, the timber bear yells out, and I pulse past him, staring within the warmth of his lightened eyes, questioning, fearful...doubtful. Scream, I command in my clouded thoughts, scream! I can't!
    Don't let me go!, I attempt, but the screaming words refuse to fight my lips, and I feel deeply silent. Unheard. The golden wire becomes raw beneath my moving, crimson-soaked feet, and to my numbing surprise, footsteps is not the sound that I hear my own body make, but rhythm...
    Do you hear that?, Spirit whispers. I listen, realizing my opportunity to stop has perished. The animals blur, becoming ghosts of the Past, but their voices become as disoriented as White Noise. I listen more closely, and  I hear the alluring rhythm once more. Louder, louder, louder...the strings. The strings!
Running, running, running... I know.