Chasing Rapture

It stood stock still

Waiting, for that one single moment

Hoping, that it would come soon

Sweeping in and knock it off its feet

Anticipation growing, growing, growing

The rhythm of its feet pounding into the ground

Of its sweet escape

Kept pace to the madness of its heartbeat

It fell, finally catching up to that moment

And grasping it in its hands

There was no more chasing,

It had been rewarded with the rapture

Of the moment.