A/N: For the 100 prompts challenge (The Poetry Craze), #015 – delay.
Mad Rush
He'd spent so long trying to find that groove that it felt
like he'd never catch up – to those higher steps
he'd seen that one day
and then started running towards
But he went, slowly – though it seemed like haste
to others, he walked at his own pace: nice and slow –
repeating, learning the drills, and once he was confidant
or desperate, he took a deeper plunge:
a risk which mostly paid him off
And he found himself slowing down in other places,
slowing that mad rush to nowhere, in all directions
that only served to make his aim stronger still –
Because he had something to aim for now –
no longer that methodological covering of every space
but a narrow path
to the sky.