There is stillness in my unblinking eye,
Stillness which remains unblinkered.
Yet being an also ran,
In lifes’ Steeple Chase.
Even then, having left the starting gate,
And with the going, good to firm.
I clutched at my breath
Gulping in the Oxygen of life,
Being in fear of the hurdles ahead,
In the certain knowledge that
The true course of life is long and hard,
With it strewn about with worthy attempts,
Which are the litter
Of ripped up losers betting slips,
Hard even for those who are thorough bred.
I canter lately,
With less of the stable lad wbout me,
And much less of the stallion too.
I am going to seed in the fields at dusk,
Having never been a strong contrnder.
My odds were always even,
Even in the long grass.
And that is precisely
Where I’ve been kicked to.
There is an unblinkered eye
In my stillness.
(c) 2018 Christopher Thompson
All rights reserved.