13.49
A Biography III
He walked in quiet, in the shade,
No boasting shouts, no victory parade,
A sense of doubt in the crowd, a face unseen,
Just one among the many wanting to win.
His rivals, stood tall, with muscles of steel,
Voices like thunder, their victories on heels,
Eyed with pity, a smile laced with scorn,
He dares to challenge the battles that are unborn.
Then came the event, swift and loud.
A clash of wills, a test of skills unbowed.
He moved with grace, a whisper in the storm,
His focus is steady, keeping his rials warm.
One by one they fell,
Their taunts are like echoes in a broken shell.
He stood alone, the silence grew,
His quiet smile, a canvas painted new.
The victor’s applause paused, a flicker in his eye,
Then raised a hand, swift reply.
He pointed to others, bowed his head low,
That gesture, seeds of kindness sowed.
For victory earned with grace and empathy,
Shines brighter still than any trophy,
And though the bitter words may sting,
True champions lift others along the way,
So let the cheers declare a different story,
For in spirit of the game,
True winners rise, not just on a single day.
