Once more to the arena to do battle again,
Thoughts only of defeat or victory to gain.
All doubts and worldly worries shall wait another day,
For loss of limbs and riches pales to the glorious fray.
.
The cheers of the adorers,
The pleas from the beloved,
The warnings of the horrors,
And reminders from above.
.
All those and more are drowned out by the roaring of the fight
In the proving grounds of mettle; golden dawn to inky night,
In command yet, too, resigned to the fickle hands of fate,
Hunger for glory, thrill, or fortune, all joined in strife to sate.
.
As the smoke of battle clears, and a victor is proclaimed,
On each head a wreath of glory, or the burden of disgrace,
But in each is only bated breath to once again clash steel,
To ever court the hand of Victory, with never-ending zeal.