On your marks!…
He looks forward at the curved, white-lined tracks as they snaked their way to wherever. Blurry…his gaze wavers to the wrong path. Winning is one thing, your route to victory is another. He concludes the process defines the passion for the intent, but the point is to never relent…abi? They say he’s a sinner, but he never repents, he dwells in the dark thoughts of doom, but always poked back to the light with the pointy ends of a broom…(well, y‘all call it conscience)…etching on his mind, his tough but swift race to death.
Get set!…..
He tenses, his breath shaky as he slowly exhales. He yearns for the past, like the beginning of his latest breath, but to be defeated you have to conquer….
So, who’s the bad person?…what’s the option?
…BAM!!...the race begins, then it’s over.
Flowers, tears and dirt toast cheerfully to his victory (…um, probably theirs as well), to the end of the race…his race, the race you run alone….to his new home.
Who won?
…the priceless golden silence shines through this noisy world…announcing God’s greatest bitch, intimidating in her empty cloak as well as her deep heavy presence.
Who won?
No one wins…
…our stories will always be told by others, as theirs by us.
…then again….is just what it is.
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