Finish Line

Ideas too expansive to understand
dance by too fast to follow, as I claw
through the weeds in slow motion, seeking
a hand-hold, a place for my grip to grasp
onto ways to slow the spin; to catch up.
But that flash-point world, a world dashing
by at twice the speed of light, discards
those of us who sometimes need to crawl.
The rest, sprinting blindly, rush toward
an awkward admonition whose truth will
not be told until the finish line bleeds
broken dreams in the churned sand
of anxious footsteps taken before their time.
The crawlers will wish we had forewarned them
of the shattered path ahead, but we didn’t
really know what to expect, did we?

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Please tell me how this post strikes you.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.