Lone Spirit.

I started running through the night again.

Not a single voice can be heard for miles, not even my own. Only my breath, heavily leading the sound of my feet, stamping against the pavement. They trail behind me, stiffening from the nights before. The cold damp air bites at my face and the wind cuts like burning ice through my gloves, searing my fingertips to the bone. My ears ache and are numb to sound. The watchful eye of a street lamp wips pass me, showing me a path I take alone. My pace increases. I bring no music with me. Only the percussive strain of my body, keeping rhythm, rumbling the declamatory drums of a heart on fire. The wind flutters in syncopation like a butterfly whispering to me. It has been years since I've run through the night. But the feeling is just the same.

It was on the first night since then that I saw the silhouette of a four-legged stray cross my path in the distance. Body of a dog, walk like a coyote. As I ran closer, the beast stopped and stared at me. I glared back, seeing no eyes but I knew that thousand yard stare so well; I could feel its eyes upon me. A face of black fur, back-lit by a street lamp, gave it an eerie glow. As I ran closer, Its breath I could see breaking the air in front of him. He stepped forward a bit, continuing on his path. Then he lowered his head, looking back to the journey ahead, not afraid. He walked passed and away. It was then that I realized, we were the same. It was here, running through the night that I felt more powerful, more at home than anywhere I have ever been. I have never felt so sure of myself, so free from every single pain and worry. Not even the bitter chill of the wind could break my stride. The elements were no match for my resolve. It is a place only for me. A place only I understand. And the only place that truly understands me. I am alone. The way it has always been. The way it should be. The coyote, chasing into the night.