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.