The Finish Line

The earth is warm next to my ear. Insects noise is all that I hear. A magic trick makes the world disappear. The skies are dark, they're dark but they're clear. A distant motorcade and suddenly there's joy. The snow and tickertape blurs all my senses numb. It's like the finish line where everything just ends. The crack of radios seems close enough to touch. Cold water, cleaning my wounds. A sad parade, with a single balloon. I'm done with this, I'm counting to ten. Blue as seas, running to them. I feel like I am watching everything from space. And in a minute I'll hear my name and I'll wake. I think the finish line's a good place we could start. Take a deep breath, take in all that you could want.