The third eye wears the reason why: They won’t come home.

                  Where else is there is there to run when the open there is no other?

There. Running and finding that the question itself is a coalition of the light.

The called and passages foretold of one’s west was unafraid of the iron door,
the only option became the passion of escape's long shadow
so crossed with arms lost to blot the hands.

To be a lamp, the going go.

               (That a body vanished could climb down the rails and now back around
                  through the old one into a fugitive crossed with All, the way Harriet
                     Tubman houses the eyes houses the strength of Harriet Tubman.)

Beneath everything else there is the railroad, a running and a finding, the railroad.