Is life just a race we run silently,
through caverns of our mind,
through sands of each passing hour,
chasing love, acceptance, truth,
knowledge, wisdom, enlightenment
and yet, what do we hold
when the finish line arrives
and the moments we lived
slipped uncherished through our hands?

Every accomplished goal, every achievement,
grievances or dreams
why do we seek validation through the eyes of others?
Is this how we measure pain, measure joy,
as if comparison could define our worth,
as if milestones could weigh our lives?

We ask the heavens for signs,
just to not feel alone in ourselves,
for sympathy, for proof
that our striving mattered, that we matter.
But too often time passes blindly,
so do minutes, so do days.
We forget to breathe, to feel, to touch,
to taste the fleeting sweetness of now.

Moments pass while masks we wear,
the charades filled with smiles we force,
in our minds, the races we run for applause, for “can you see me now?”
None of it matters really
in the quiet shadow cast upon the grave.

I have stood on both sides,
felt the burn of regret, sorrow, and longing,
the hollow echo of unclaimed moments
that have passed through timeless treasures.
Many questions remain,
but none so honest as this:
what are we truly chasing,
and at what cost do we spend this life
or fail to live the life that waits
in the present?