Runner
by W. H. Auden

All visible visibly
Moving things
Spin or swing,
One of the two,
Move, as the limbs
Of a runner do,
To and fro,
Forward and back,
Or, as they swiftly
Carry him,
In orbit go
Round an endless track:
So, everywhere, every
Creature disporting
Itself according
To the law of its making,
In the rivals' dance
Of a balanced pair,
Or the ring-dance
Round a common centre,
Delights the eye
By its symmetry
As it changes place.
Blessing the unchangeable
Absolute rest
Of the space all share.

The camera's eye
Does not lie,
But it cannot show
The life within,
The life of a runner,
Of yours or mine,
That race which is neither
Fast nor slow,
For nothing can ever
Happen twice,
The story which moves
Like music when
Begotten notes
New notes beget,
Making the flowing
Of Time a growing,
Till what it could be
At last it is,
Where Fate is Freedom,
Grace and Surprise