Dale Lloyd

It doesn’t really matter now.
What has been done is done.
A finished race cannot simply be rerun.

Standing at the edge of time, all the lines seem blurred—
success, failure, good, bad—
the easy answers I once had.

Once it all seemed clear and bright.
I waited for the crowd to cheer,
but silence ruled the endless night.
No one cared if I was right.

Time has washed it all away;
there’s little left for me to say.
That black-and-white world has slipped from sight,
and yet my heart remains in peace.

What mattered then has found release.
I make no boast of what I know—
the curtain fell on that old show.

My “song” is not about regret; it’s clarity to me.
And though I walk with empty hands,
my soul moves upward and is free.