Finish Lines

Are unpredictable.
Even mystical.
I have found
That I rarely feel
Like I thought I would
Whenever I cross one.
Its usually because
The next set of endeavors
Loom so large
That they cast a long shadow on this
Suddenly unremarkable finish line,
And I soon forget
How many long nights
I spent in anticipation for this moment-
This moment that has turned
Severely anticlimactic and
Almost a definite disservice
To the work I’ve put in.
Fortunately, I’ve been blessed
With people along the way
Who have reminded me to
Pause and ponder
Consider and count-
Count myself most fortunate
Because it seems that
The reason why this line
Appears so faint
Is that I have grown so large
That the things that I once looked up to
In longing
I can now look down at
In gratitude.
Finish lines are ill defined things,
But we would do well
To mark them boldly
In ink.

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