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.