The watchers watch the runners run;
They’ve worked long hours with competence
To earn their pay for jobs well done,
And now see their essential sense.
A metaphysic joy is theirs—
Life’s purpose in a single act
Devoid of all distracting cares,
Alive in one bare shining fact.
To strive to do one’s very best
Through hours, weeks and years,
Made manifest in sporting test—
Arousing shouts and joyous tears.
A goal that’s got, a dream fulfilled,
With effort of glad life that lives—
This is the soul of choice that’s willed
And to itself most proudly gives.
The watchers watch the runners run
And feel inside the burning fire
Of love-of-rising never done,
Intense with sense of right desire.
Transparent effort seen by all,
An honest effort, win or lose,
Cloaked not in aught political,
No cheating/lying to confuse.
The people’s love of honesty
Shines blazing, like the high noon sun;
They cheer the man, who e’er he be,
Especially Mo, who rose and won!