Abdul Wahab - Race

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

Abdul Wahab

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/race-31/