Photo Finish

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Horse racing seen through the eyes of the equine athlete whose career is done, is promised heaven by the unseen hands leading him/her towards greener pastures, thinking that the torture endured after repeated losses has been forgiven via persistence and loyalty, imagining the glory of wins past.

photo Finish

Lying

Here in my filth

I can still see the light

Shining just outside the trap door

But

This dark world is

Perfect

The black and blue don't show, and

Checkered flags, triple Crowns can

Crash

Smothered yet untouched

Forgotten, remembered

By that flickering light

which dares break

Through the shadows

And shine through even these

Dusty cracks, finally the latch

a path trick or track

A whispered breath extinguishes

The burning flame instant change

Familiar voice, familiar name forgives

Momentary lapse of loyalty

Disturbed the timeless dream

Vibrational wave calling

Matching frequencies the same

Black glory hole of fame

Invisible hands divine, comforting pat

Feeding confidence fleeting moment

Mucky hoof prints out the stall door

A new world of color

To the big blind eyes

Unsteady balance quickly regained

Not quite forgetting

The past of the last

Of a lifetime spent

Begging for the end of deprivation

Loveless pain

Falls away in the flash

Of a photo Finish

 

 

(Original draft:)

Lying

Here in my filth

I can still see the light

Shining just outside

The trap door

But this dark world

Is perfect:

The black and blue don't show, and

Checkered flags, triple crowns

Can crash, smothered yet untouched,

Forgotten like the soft whisper

Of a breath to the candle flame

That dared shine

Through even these dusty cracks

Until one day it aligned

And illuminated the latch

Seemed of no consequence, no catch

Mucky hoof prints out the stall door

Rusted creak of stall door

A cacophonous roar

Still, awkward stumbles

Steadied forward towards

The loudest cheers, what must they be for

Points of light expand, the unseen hands

That lead, atrophied muscle memories

Of hope, glory, fleeting admiration

Victory's jubilees that always seem to

Precede pity parties

Before crowds proceed en masse

Mercy killing of ceaseless days

Pronounced deceased, predictably

Forecast, terminal disease

To the hopeless, hope sans reason

Is cruelty, treason, final season

A lifetime spent

Racing in circles

begging for the pain to end

Explodes in the flash

Of a photo finish

 

 

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