Run Barkley Run
Run Barkley run as if you were riding
on the fires of the lightning bolts
from the nostrils of the raging Tempest,
racing with the fleets of time
in your acts of demolition upon the earth.
Run like your cleats were suspended
above the turf and left you
weightless, a prey of the savage winds
that blow you into another world.
Run as if you were the Lord of the winds,
the supreme power behind the winds,
that push them a million miles into space.
Run like a raging river of adrenalin
that floods its banks in the face of fear.
Run like the heated blood of a virgin
that surges through her veins
as she lay upon her wedding bed
at the first sighting of her impassioned lover,
and the shooting stars that light up on cue,
showering the skies with the dust of love,
a taste of the rivers that run through
the perforated night-time sky
and visions of the spears and the flowers
that float in the deep space throughout
as time becomes a cannon
that thrusts her into the future.
Run like the monsoons of the
Indian Ocean that have no end in sight,
like the sweat of the stallions from
their marathon running through
the clouds and into the sunset.
Run as you have never run before;
just another five yards for a touchdown
with ten seconds left on the clock
so you can win the game for us.
Run Barkley run. Run number twenty six.
Run, run, run, run!
This was written as a pep talk to Saquon Barkley, running back for the New York Giants
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