That moment many watch, but few only know
That moment when all, is put on line
When the knowledge that losing, has nothing to show
When the taste of winning, is more than sublime.
When reason takes flight, and it’s just for the fight
When God only knows, the forces at play
When the season is right, then that soul is a sight
As it recklessly charges, into the fray.
Some call it madness, some call it spirit
Many just sit, in the numbness of awe
Some cry in gladness, some offer tribute
Many deny, the spectacle they saw.
But a warmth that is priceless, defies trophies or praise
When that beast within all, is let out to rage.
