The Rush

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

 

rushdon-pensinger

Image by Doug Pensinger/Getty Images/Google Images

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