Who won the race--tortoise or the hare?
The turtle was pedestrian but he was true
That rabbit had ambition yet was confused
What race do you run--is it worth your while?
Do your blood, sweat, and tears win medals
Would you hang these idols on your wall
Maybe you're just wasting time on foolish ideals
I knew a decorated man once, who gained nothing
From his material of bells and shining whistles
Ask yourself--who will win this race?
For it is the pace of life to which you must adhere
No matter your medals, it will expire without consent
And will anyone recognize the dusty trinkets forgotten
Or will they remember that you were kind to them
That you loved them with all your mortal soul
It matters not to me, For I am not the judge of things
But an observant watcher, with an ever scrolling pen
I mourn for those who run to death without any gait
To pause and breathe beauty before they lose their way
I speak these things from a travel hardened scroll
Though all experiences aren't merely physical
Some exist only where the mind can reach them
And others of years past forget to exist at all
I started my race as the bright and bouncing hare
I fell into a looking glass and every sordid hole
When I wandered back to the surface again
The shell was firmly upon my tired back
I gladly am the tortoise in the Augusts of my years
I know no hurry with which to finish forever
All of my traveled notions come at such a price
I have not seen that pecan tree in many sunrises
Yet my mind will forever paint the place for me
Even turtles can remember some things clearly
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