AS THE GAMES BEGIN
In Rio, some thousands of miles away from these words,
An athlete, a confused young star, sits in a quiet room in the dark,
Outside the window, perhaps he listens on a small handheld device,
And the Games begin.
Tomorrow, next week, perhaps three nights from now – she will exhaust her body,
She will push herself to the an extreme her earthly form has never known,
She will scream, her pores with gush in a furious flush of sweat,
Perhaps they will bleed,
Perhaps they will not feel a thing,
Failure or success, it will be over in a matter of seconds, and
Regardless of how they view these seconds,
In another matter of seconds, they will be near death,
And they will at least have their story.
But now in the dark, there is only the athlete and the sounds
Of the Games as they begin.