Pulling up a man is somewhat sane, <br />pushing up him is self demotion, <br />I am not in it, neither I am <br />in pulling down any one as it will <br />drag me down, too, the tug <br />of war is stupid, if some one <br />cuts the rope, we all will be on <br />the ground, I am there in the race <br />and to be safe I run on my own <br />pace, I never go to be fastest rather <br />I go to show my guts which, I think, <br />I have enough, you run but not against <br />any body but yourself, to pull out best <br />out of yourself, to be great you run <br />against the tide and beat the wind, <br />I got an itch, I love to run against <br />all odds, I am against all rotten mess, <br />this gives me greater freedom, freedom <br />from slavery of going to and through <br />pre-directed direction, freedom to go <br />to any direction, the animal in me realizes <br />totally different taste and meaning, <br />the child in me knows no bounds, <br />the poet and saint in me abet me to run <br />more for the other cares life brings, <br />And they never give a damn who touches <br />the finishing line first.<br /><br />Abdul Wahab<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/race-31/
