Fate.

The whistle is blown,
Muscles strain.
Tension. Pressure.
I am to start a race of emotion.

The wind is rushing in,
I am numb.
Agony. Pain.
I yearn for the finish line.

The rain is descending,
I am drenched.
Frustration. Depression.
I strain my eyes.

The fog is emerging,
I am enclosed.
Panic. Fear.
I am blinded.

The snow is conquering,
I am cold.
Anger. Rage.
I shall win this race!

The sun is glorious ,
I am warmed.
Comfort. Love.
I run at ease.

Moments pass,
The finish line seems further away...
Muscles ache.
Confusion.

- Am I to lose this race?