The Race Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

The race is neither to the swift
nor to the strong the preacher said
those words once stood the test of time
more treasured oft than daily bread

Today this world of lightning speed
bestows and wraps with golden sheath
the mighty warrior, trophied star
brow much adorned with laurel wreath

Is it too late to step aside
beyond the highways steady stream
to lie on cool and mossy earth
and contemplate a stray sunbeam?

Where are we going? one might ask
yet that voice often can't be heard
it's much too muffled by the sound
of great machines that frighten birds

The race is neither to the swift
nor to the strong the preacher said
those words once stood the test of time
more treasured oft than daily bread.