The Race

By Ezekiel

It’s a quarter to three, and you still lay on your bed as if you didn’t hear the pistol signifying the start of the race. You tussle and tumble as though tortured by a nightmare. Really, the only torture you feel is that of laziness already tired of your presence in its kingdom. He is tired because his worshippers want to crown you lord over him, and he’s having none of it, so even he is giving you a nudge to get off the sidelines and into the race.

You actually thought you had the others beaten, hence you decided to take a break.  You look back to realize they are upon you and you again take off. Unknown to you, they are running the third lap of the race while you are still in the second. True, you shouldn’t compare yourself with others but you still need to set a bench mark for yourself. Did you really think you would be in the lead forever, when all you have desired is to take short, intermittent stops?

Your mates are flying and you want to fly too, but you can’t enlist in flight school because you haven’t gained enough mileage on the ground, thus you can’t gain enough air miles to qualify you for flying in space. It’s not just being bound to the ground that annoys you, it is being given the opportunity to fly in the skies but not knowing it. All the opportunities lay at your feet, but you don’t see them. You don’t want to go trampling upon the opportunities that lay at your door step, hence you stay home, bound and scared of doing anything. You don’t want to go foiling your opportunities, thus you decide to play safe with everyone you meet, but the problem is that some of the people you meet need to be shaken up a bit, like a tree so that they can drop the fruits stuck to their stems. Your playing safe will leave nothing for them to recall you by, asides from your probably distinctly remarkable features, which would at best be cause a few moments of talk after they have met you.

In the race, you have to choose what side you want to be on; the sidelines or on the tracks. The sidelines are for those who have run the race well and have set a record for those coming after them. It’s also for those who chose to give up much sooner than they should have and those that never started the race at all.
The tracks are for those that are in the race; they may stumble, but they continue. They don’t give up until they reach the finish line they set for themselves or are brought to a stop by oppressors who are threatened by their efforts.



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