Poetry About Competition

Eight runners settle into the painted lanes. Breath gathers under the stadium noise. Each carries mornings no crowd ever saw. The pistol cracks the waiting air apart. For one bright minute, wanting becomes motion. At the finish, every heartbeat tells the truth.

The scene turns slowly in another light. Each carries mornings no crowd ever saw. Edges soften while the question sharpens. For one bright minute, wanting becomes motion. Nothing is solved by looking away. At the finish, every heartbeat tells the truth.

Eight runners settle into the painted lanes. Hours pass, but the image does not leave. Each carries mornings no crowd ever saw. It returns us to rivalry, effort, pressure, fairness, ambition, and learning what victory costs. For one bright minute, wanting becomes motion. The day continues with a more attentive heart.