It’s all relative …but to what?

Where I reach

Someone is already there

Where I step from

Someone is moving toward

When I turn back

I see many

When I face forward

Many more

There is no perfection

No

First place

This isn’t a race

Some competition to see who is best

Rather

It is the journey of one’s own volition

Forward

Upward

Onward

It’s all relative

And the point from which that springs

Isn’t inside any one person

But rather

A million stars arching above

The theory

Is

Nothing

No beginning that can be witnessed

Just a space and time continuum

That never ends

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