The Race

I need to get away, but bring the world with me.
Running's never been my strong suit, and problems keep a steady pace.
The fact that I am in a perfect place and still feeling lost,
means my body needs the Spirit to join with me in the race.

Laced up, lonliness welcomes isolation,
it's easier to run when you're feeling chased.
At that point it's no longer about the destination,
but instead about the extent you'll go for a taste.

Cause bitterness in bits is a welcomed sting,
and for a moment's joy, you'll risk a lifetime of loss,
Carrying aftertaste with the guilt of its cost,
it's more than your own, it's His life that you've lost.

Fearing failure, I decide never to run,
in submission, I fall right down on my face.
Aware that I'm failing, regretting what's done,
In forgiveness, He tells me to start running His race.