Marathon

[theCorniest]

The kin at the side of the starting line says go, and his whole existence narrows from eager hooves and anxious flutters to the simple, rigorous motion of running. He is full, mind and body, with the endless, thundering sound of hoofbeats, the mechanical motion of leg by leg by leg, propelling himself endlessly forward. He drifts into a blissful calm, soothed by its familiar rhythm. Somewhere far away, both physically and mentally, there is a finish line; for now, there is only motion and endurance. There is only the marathon.