It wasn’t a race and yet you ran faster.
Never once looking back.
Never waiting,
As I stopped to catch my breath, panting,
Exhausted, and unable to catch up.
I stopped too often, for far too long
And you finally disappeared from my sight.

I didn’t stop running…
Or walking, as some whispered in my ears
As they gleefully overtook me.
New friends, new groups,
‘And new races,’ they shouted.
Though this confused me always.
‘Races?’ I thought, ‘Races? I don’t race anyone but myself.’

I do not know how far my friends ran
Or what all they saw and experienced,
But I plodded on
Slowly. Well, I always walked, you see.
And then one day I found I have not just walked further
But also climbed higher –
I loved the views from my vantage point.

I’m still walking slowly, and climbing higher
And sometimes I do spot some of the runners
Sitting contentedly on their own peaks
As I plod onwards still searching
Still wondering
If I am part of some race or just keeping pace
With my restless dreams.

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The Race - a poem

The Race – a poem

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Arvind Passey
08 May 2017