I see a sprinter,
Restless feet and restless eyes, 
A fire within, 
Unbent and unwavering,
Awaiting that race.

The only race that is ever run, 
Towards that elusive goal,
Towards that moment in time, 
A moment of brilliant radiance, 
An orb pulsating in glory. 

The sprinter looks around, 
Gauging his peers,
None are found,
For it isn’t their race,
Only his own.

A shot is heard,
And the race begins, 
The sprinter morphs into a bullet,
Charging towards the pulsating orb, 
His one chance at that elusive life.

And each passing moment, 
Of joy, of despair,
 Is just glimpsed briefly, 
Through the thick veil of pursuit, 
Of frenetic pace.

Adrenaline rushes through, 
Elation and euphoria follow, 
In a daze of his own pace, 
The orb shimmers like an oasis, 
Or was it a mirage instead? 

Other orbs line his path, 
Just as different, just as divine, 
But those are not the ones he seeks, 
The true orb beckons, 
Surely it is destiny? 

A cold is sneaking up on him, 
And his feet blistered, 
But he wouldn’t dream of stopping, 
Not now, surely,
Those years of the race cannot be undone. 

He fumbles and crashes, 
His eyes weary and unfocused, 
The orb dances in his eyes, 
The dream alive, 
Of a life worth living. 

But life has started to dwindle, 
He can feel the light leave, 
In a last scramble, 
He prays to the ground, 
For someone to take his place.

The ground yields, 
And a figure emerges, 
Through the cloud of smoke and dust, 
The baton is passed,
The sprinter finally at peace. 

The veil of pursuit lifts,
And recognition startles the sprinter’s eyes,
For in his final moments,
He can now see the other, his proxy, 
The one with restless feet and restless eyes, 
A fire within, 
Unbent and unwavering,
Awaiting that absurd race,



Waves of life,
Incomprehensible and divine,
March and recede,
On the beach of time.

The strolling perceptive passenger,
Pauses on the sands,
Breathes in the wonder,
Singular to such lands.

The waves crash at his feet,
The lives within release,
Euphoric the souls soar,
Untethered and at peace.

The sun never sets here,
The waves don’t suspend,
The beach remains eternal,
A home beyond the end.



My Post-6

A quiet comfort exists in the quiet,
Away from the bustle of life.
When pristine mornings sweep over,
With prancing mists and strands of the sun,
Spinning webs of gold through the cedars,
An unyielding stillness evokes within.

Imbibe from this nature,
Guzzle the potent elixir,
And as you lose grasp,
Find yourself in the reality,
That the serenity is as much,
From you as it is for you.

Place a foot forward,
And hear the quiet drift away,
Under the crumble of dry leaves.
Witness your creation,
The sounds of life,
And feel the universe in motion,
Bowing to the architect,
As you march on,
One foot after the other.



Worlds Apart

My Post-4

We all share a world,
And yet sometimes we’re worlds apart.
Have similar eyes,
Yet some perspectives worlds apart.
Speak the same tongue,
Yet some words worlds apart.

How often do we recognize,
These worlds apart from our own?
How often try to understand a life,
Lived differently from ours?
How brave are we,
To smile at unfamiliar sights?
And how different would this world be,
If our worlds truly saw each other?




Distant is the taste of the breeze,

The rustle of tranquil trees.

Bring me back some laughter please,

And wind the clocks to times of ease.

Arrested in our homes, and lost are the keys,

A plagued world, brought to its knees.

Smeared by uncertainty are days like these,

Panic in the streets with a single sneeze.

I wish to be someone who sees,

The thaw beyond this moment of freeze,

Until then, today is the only thing to seize,

A life worth living, fiery without a cease.