Super-Yoga No debate: running’s super-yoga, Far beyond the greybeards’ lore — Ancient junk in dusty toga, God fled bored from that old store. Mind grows sharper under motion Than in statues stiff and froze. Spirit forged in fierce devotion — Strain’s the path that truly shows. Yes, Zen once set the standard, But to squat today is farce: You’ll become a pompous blabber, Breeding hemorrhoids in your arse. That made sense when fields demanded Hours bent in soil and sun. Now we’re bloated, slack, unmanned — Tamed like dogs that never run. Run from obedience and terror — Run in body, run in mind. Scrub your consciousness from error — Ancient myths and modern blind...