The Race

It is said that there is a light at the end
That there is a finish line
And that one should fix one's eyes upon it
That one should run the race
that one shouldn't be entangled
By vines encountered along the way
However, in the midst of unhindered running
I begin to slow down
Adorned by a vine of the forest
Unsure whether or not to remove it
Unsure whether or not I have become the tortoise
Unsure whether or not it is a vine
Upon second sight
I believe it is a hand intertwined with mine
Tell me which one it is, O Divine