Saturday, March 4, 2017

The Rush

Sometimes I sit here before this scene
Like a frenzied race horse stuck in the gates
Ready years ago to be released into the race
The race declared long past to be finished
Yet I still want to run

Others have run and run well
I stand amongst the earthen swell
Feeling like I have nothing to give, nothing to say
Just looking across an empty day
To another empty chasm
A chasm made of iron, just a small depth in width
Yet completely reliant on the will of another
My ambition is causing me to almost smother
In the thoughts of what was, what could be

I long to be free

I long to be me, even in the midst of darkened frustrations
Disappointments, disillusioned, a milieu of temptations
Yielded to but not forgotten, spat upon but loved all the same
I stand here at the gate, I remember my name

And the door swings open wide with a rush

Photo by Doug Pensinger/Getty Images/Google Images

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