Race

A pure and dignified race for knowledge, I pursue it with a friend. Studying hard, and study we do, we laugh, and we fall silent. We ask, and we respond. We reach out, and we are saved.

I keep my eyes on the prize of knowledge, knowing in my heart what it is worth. My failures are successes. My fears, courage. And my weaknesses soon turn to strength.

My friend watches, bewildered. Frustration grows with every passing day. Mistakes pile up in mind and heart. And impatience boils over, only to be calmed by self-praise.

My friend wanted a grade, the fruit, while I pursued the seed. Had I achieved sweet fruit or not, I remain victorious. Had he achieved his grade or not, unfruitful in my mind was his deed.

Tomorrow, my friend appreciates me not for being there when he needed me most, nor does he invite. Complaining and muttering about how far he walked, and how little he slept for a grade.

Tomorrow, my friend tries to pull me down in hopes of catching up. He speaks non-truths about my work, and his honour dims down and fades. He did not convince me, nor himself that what he did he did for good. He does not pull me down, for my strength lies beyond his reach, and his fingers slip away.

Tomorrow, my friend will regret. If only he got an A…

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