By Leonard Treman
I find myself again grasping the reins of success once more.
Elusive like a black stallion under the night sky it slips.
The great steed refuses to be mastered.
I grasp the reins holding on with all that I am.
Inflicted on me are grievous wounds by the gravel and dirt I drag past.
As I am torn apart I can’t let go.
As deep as the wounds cut.
Each scar defines a piece of myself.
With each passing moment I grow stronger.
While the dirt splinters my face.
I dream of not only riding the horse but,
winning the race.