Austin Harlingham’s poem rallies against the monotony of the rat race, celebrating the world out there we haven’t yet explored. Illustration by Chris Ede.

Put down the frown my dear, you don’t wear it well.
Instead, pull that heavy head from piled paper,
and let’s punch into the days.

Leave behind the masks, tasks, the loitering clock,
then let us walk, run, sprint into the coruscating blue,
into buses, planes, trams, trains,
tracking city streets and summer lanes,

Let us follow the unbeaten paths of this planet,
filling our ears and our eyes,
with mother tongues, foreign things,
vibrant places that sink into skin.

For these days belong to us my dear;
the world is our wilderness,
its cities our playgrounds,
our very own spinning blank page,
waiting, waiting for us to scribble in our stories.

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