NASCAR...Last Car genre: Do Not Resuscitate & Rhyme-N-Reason
I wrote the following poem, NASCAR...Last Car, while thinking about the similarities between life and a car race. Sometimes we know where we are going and we easily steer our course; other times we keep moving but haven't a clue where we're headed. Regardless, life is a journey that must be navigated. We often look to others to tell us the way but ultimately each life is an individual adventure. Though our paths may cross and we occasionally travel together, in the end we leave this existence alone.
As I read the poem tonight, it made me also recall my time in Barcelona...particularly the Gothic District, one of the oldest areas in the city which is a virtual maze of buildings through which traverse narrow streets not intended for vehicle traffic. Each time I walked the district I seemingly found another walkway or a new area that I had previously missed. In these recollections, it was apparent that life unfolds similarly...sometimes the path is familiar and mundane and other times it's uniqueness kindles an awakening that moves the spirit. Sometimes we feel we can't go on...but if we persist, somehow life presents us with more and we are renewed.
NASCAR...Last Car
Another disappointment, the doubting settles in
Searching for an answer, what’s it take to win?
Standing on the precipice, the future staring back
The past has left its mark, the tires in its track
The fuel is in the tank, the engine needs some gas
Brakes will hold us back, breaks will move us past
The odds are on the board, you’re the odd man out
Opponents all around, it’s you against your doubt
Can the course be altered, or is it set in stone?
Is fate your destination, can your destiny be known?
A leap of faith essential, but faith has up and leapt
You haven’t got a prayer; the will is all that’s left
The race is always lost if the track is never taken
The circle is the journey, it can never be forsaken
Inside a fire rages, the structures built to save
Smoke obscures the way, flames insure the grave
The blaze becomes a candle, there to light the way
The bullet leaves the barrel, checkers end the day
The vessel must be driven, it’s driven all alone
The answers are within; you win it on your own
Daniel DiRito | September 9, 2006 | 9:00 PM |
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