The race of man is no race at all. From birth to death, time appears to not matter. Man spends it as if it had no value or no end.

It’s only when time is expired that man begs for more. Wishing and regretting while the final ticks whisk away; it’s too late.

Now is the moment to realize there is no time; there are only things to do.

What will I do? Let my wishes expire or act upon them and see them realized?

The race is mine and it never ends. Until it does.

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