I am old now but not tired.

So long as my hands move my mind will stay paces ahead.

An old man plump from a well lived life, I know just what I want. Every hurdle I’ve jumped just as a trained and glorious race horse; dark or light.

My race has littered me with praise and weighed me in gold. I shake my mane. That I have earned and it scatters the trophies amongst beaten paths.  Those foot soldiers who treaded before me, behind me, and in line. Those who fell to the burden of lead I’ll give my scant offerings.

As all roads this one will surely come to an end and when it comes I hope to fall upon the cross on my back.  Sometimes I forget it’s there until I lay down to rest but it is the most comfortable bed. From that great sleep I will rise to start the race all over again and this time be strong enough to carry men; not riches.