ever ran a race so long it seem as if 
it took a thousand years to complete? 
the times when our paths are shaky
and the cobbled pathways seem as if 
they were there to trip you on purpose.
not forgetting the leaves and the wind 
that were acting against you as if 
you went to war with mother nature. 
the precious beads of perspiration that 
forms on your forehead falls as if 
they form some sort of a sign to others 
behind not to follow in your footsteps. 
you leave such signs, such trademarks; 
but yet no one sees them, oblivant as if 
they were blind without a walking cane. 
you tried to warn them of the looming dangers 
but none listened, all of them turned a deaf ear. 
the warning is this: you are running for nothing 
for at the end of this unwinding 
difficult and trecherous road, 
there is no end and worse still
there is no prize. 
all things are meaningless.
