Virtual goals set temporary tracks,
For a tiny gray rat who fights, who falls,
To attain that little victory, that gold trophy.
The track plays a passive game with the little rat,
In quick flashes it appears, it disappears,
Leaving little to cherish, little to feel.
Bound by time, the heart of the rat,
Slows down, little by little,
Killing the mighty rat, little by little.
The ticking time finally makes way,
To the rat’s rightful resting place,
Unceremoniously to a single uniting space.
All the victories, All the goals,
Form little carvings on a white shining grave,
That slowly sinks, with dusts of decay…