Under the Lights At the edge of the field The army amasses Clothed for battle Pulse rates beating, fast Thumping in their chests The sweat pools beneath their gladiator armor Their brows are furrowed Gaze intent, determined, focused The leaders from among their ranks Stand in front Their voices frenzied with passion Stomping, slapping, hollering Motivating, Demanding, Promising Gaze becomes wild Left behind is the civility of polite souls Now they are primal, vicious…but disciplined Yellow Gleam of battle lights Reflecting from their headgear The smell in their air Potent, pungent For the warrior its smells like victory For the coward it smells like defeat Seconds tick, muscles tighten The fevered pitch of onlookers heightens Shouts are fuel for courage At stake, their pride! Their Dreams! Vicariously others live through this moment Their envy to be among the warriors But not all can Not all Will! Not all will pay the price! Not all will sweat, bleed, and surrender their bodies! Many will want to…but only these men will Final tick, last second A piercing battle cry is given by their captain Charge the field Power behind their movements Strength in the hearts Courage in their souls They take the field…it will be theirs They will not give up ground They will surrender themselves Their bodies, Their hearts, Their souls, Underneath those Friday Night Lights.
Posted on: Fri, 23 Aug 2013 20:17:53 +0000
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