There was once a race, a chariot race
Deadly as a person could ever imagine.
It was ferocious but brilliant,
It was the battle of the bests.
But there was one charioteer with full glory
He was never seen before,nor he was like those who were seen.
His eyes shone with pride and humility
His voice echoed his thirst to win.
He was more glorious than words could ever describe.
He was the forerunner,and the crowd referred him as the best of the bests.
Then he fell,he fell off his chariot,
Heart stopped not his but of the crowd’s.
He was on the hot sand , lying, bleeding.
The hero had fallen.
The crowd unknowingly shed tears for their hero.
But the fallen hero had to rise,and
He did. His ambitious eyes opened and the crowd cheered.
The charioteer than rode his one horsed chariot
To the finish line as a winner.
The charioteer was never seen after
But the people realized the message.
They were all the actual heroes,
Helplessly bleeding on the barren field.
And it was their chance to open their eyes
And ride their way as winners to the finish line.