To the Finish Line

While the moon guards over the mountain slopes and its beams drum up every heartbeat, I hit the pavement. Amidst the deafening and orgasmic sound of the crickets, my sweat drops beat the black earth pound by pound, ranting a rhythmic voyage to the unknown. Purposeful, mechanical, musical, each muscle hums a chord of existence that gives a joyous and vivid inertia equal to that of a melodic dance.
With the horizon far beyond my reach, I head on, crashing the wind’s armour and echoing its stubborn yet challenging howl. The numbers pressed on, methodically cavorting with my efforts to beat it, similarly setting its sights on the edge up ahead and keeping me diverted. Thoughts swirl in my grays, gently massaging its every nerve, giving enough spaces for reason, wonder, and capitulation to battle till death.

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