Leaping are our hearts, as the race begins.
This moment has been itching at my heels for a decade, how much longer would I have waited?
Time is the natural equalizer–raising me to be brave and strong enough to race.
Weathered are my opposition, the time I took did that to them.
Waited, they have, to lap me and to break my crown.
Their hate spreads like fire on dead brush, touching my people, and replacing pride with disgust.
I see it in their gate, their art, and most of all their progeny.
No longer am I their Queen.