If only he can standstill! But he must run. They are after him. Why can’t they standstill and give him the time to standstill? He can’t stop them, for he doesn’t have a newclear idea about how to stop them. He runs away from them to stop them. And they run after him to stop him. There you have it, the meaning of the race in a nutshell: run away from it and it will come after you like they do if only you knew when they besiege your siege, and let you, if only you knew, follow the race, as you do, live on Al-Arabiya.net. Nowhere to be found, can you see, as you see, they lie there, in the anthology of time, and here in the anatomy of this body. Pity the organ that you are!
They run after him, and they are decided to track him down and bring him to a standstill. They must bring him to a standstill if he decides not to bring himself to a standstill. For, they know if they let him run without bringing him to a standstill, he will run and bring them to a standstill. So, they run after him. As they run, they dream about themselves bringing him to a standstill. They think and they think, and they are overwhelmed by the grandeur and the glory of bringing him to a standstill, as was the case with other rogue runners before him. The world will know then they are the fiercer runners. The world already knows how fierce they can run, but they don’t trust the world knows enough how fierce they can still run.
So, they run for the world to see them run. Today, however, they thought they are not running to prove how healthy they are, because they are healthy and they know the world knows they are healthy, even though they don’t know the world knows they know they are healthy, but they run today to meet the challenges of a rogue runner. This runner who is not one wants to run to prove he can run and they will run to prove to him how far he is outrun. They know he knows he is outrun, but they don’t know he knows they know he is outrun. They will swiftly deliver that knowledge to him since he doesn’t seem to be willing to acquire it by himself despite all the standstill rehearsals and the United Runners resolutions adopted so far. He doesn’t know what a rogue runner he is, twisting and turning, courting the newclear cortège, how dare he, a runner with no veto power, a runner that wouldn’t last a day, except for the run. Oh, how much they want to let him know! How much they want to let him know! No, they won’t speak to him, though, why should they? For him to run faster? No, they will let him know, he will know, as he must by now. Where does a rogue run at the end of the road anyway? Push him to the end of the road and he will come to a standstill, he will know.
They will enlighten him, for it is their duty, now as ever, to civilize the uncivilized and disseminate knowledge to those who don’t seem to understand they must not have a newclear idea about anything. Their new message is to relieve rogue runners, runners of the global error, from the burden of knowing too much after having relieved them once from the burden of not knowing at all. Rogue runners have to know that knowledge is a burden that can break their asses. Why should he seek weapons of his own ass destruction anyway? Doesn’t he see the burden they carry? Doesn’t he see the shame of having veto power in the club of ass broken nations? Why do nations want to own the poison of their own destruction? Knowledge is a wise dictator’s destruction, I tell you. This poison is not a vaccine, I tell you. It immunizes you from nothing, not from the disgrace of being an ass broken nation? Do you not understand—here is the translation, why do you ask for the Hebrew one; don’t you speak “Muslim”? I mean Persian, no Arabic?
Missionaries of light, they feel it is their duty to continue to spread the principles to which they adhere. They are adamant to enter reforms there where they need to enter to enter reforms, and so they enter, and the reforms come, and they try to enter them. They can’t enter reforms without entering and so they have to enter to enter them. In the global error, an ass broken nation, mind you, is used to entering and vice versa. They enter anywear with everybuddy and think and say they fight for what they believe and they believe that they must run lies through a democratic sieve and let the rogue runner receive the lies he uses to deceive. They think that every entering is the last entering, and so they enter and err and err in order to enter and so on and so forth since no later erring will undo an earlier erring.
Plus, they can’t really force reforms overnight, and that’s why they have to enter and stay, and stay in order to enter them. The wildest nightmare is to have to enter the river twice, and so they enter the river and stay and pray the reforms will enter anyway. How badly reforms will come when the family romance has garnered all its charm and blood entered the race with Red Rum. They run and let run and blood boils and run and they run past Uncle Sam seeding the war within Islam and sounding wisely the alarm to run after the rogue that designed the plan. Ah, how outrun the one who thinks he can run and lose them won by won! Riverrun, blood boils and run, run and let run, set fire in every wagon and every can, and fling open the wells of Islam, and drink as you drink when you drink after 1000 lashes by the Arabian sun and the million desert foxes you run atop the piling bodies of women and men to switch off the sun. Run riverrun, tomorrow, there will be no sun, and darkness will seal the plan between the emperor and the corporate son.
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