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The Race
Within this race, its frantic pace
Leaves room for naught but grief.
For as we strive to stay alive
We fail to take relief.
As we push and pull against the rule
That eyes reflect the soul,
We speed our pace to win the race
And make the I our goal.
You have spoken quiet eloquently about the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I, too, have a poem named, "The Race." Wonderful.
Mary Charest
This speaks to me of the rush and hurry of our lives...and how so many fail to take time to see into the soul of another or of life itself. There is much more to my life than "I"....I am but a small part of the whole. Maybe I took this totally wrong, but that is what it said to me. Excellent!