Quest for the Other

The search may last a lifetime:
Those lucky schmucks who do succeed
Never speak of it again;
Those that fail either throw up walls
Or race around an endless track,
The oval of uncertainty.
Near misses do not count;
They only make the hardship harder,
Suggesting efforts come up short
Due to flagging fortitude.
That's not the case.
One strains one's eyes, one flogs one's heart,
One pants as airborne grit congests the lungs;
The muscles ache, halluces blister,
The rushing wind peels off the skin;
The would-be lover's flayed and flensed
To barest bone,
At which point he is laid to rest.