The road to Rome was paved in blood.
Blood Sweat and tears.
We walk barefooted with our sword and shield.
Years of training grant us our sandals.
The gladiator.
He roars into the sky for a death well granted,
An honor well deserved.
The crowds scream now.
Their voices more engulfing then the cyclones of Neptune,
Full of heart, yet full of blood thirst.
The taste of iron on the tips of every tongue.
Now.
Shield and blade in hand I walk.
The battered road I wander,
Kicking up dust in the path behind me.
More dust ahead.
Blood splattered nose, salt soaked tears.
The Crossing is ahead.
Forward.
The steel of the tracks are rusty and cold this night.
Rocks and rubble are strayed about them.
The metal begins to sing as its God approaches.
Red flashes in its coming,
Metal beams bow before its reckoning.
Metal beasts clamber to a halt and rumble in fear.
On either side of the road.
I sit and wait.
Eyes of an audience sit and watch.
As I challenge the God of the steel track.
Train, God to man on tracks.
He roars in my face,
His light is beaming and overwhelming.
Nothing can hide from it.
Fear engulfs me as he approaches,
He does not want me gone.
He wants me to continue,
On the road to Rome.
Horns blare.
Fear makes me jump.
Away.
God Train passes before me towards its foreseen and known path.
Massive engines power its turbines and gears,
Yet a small horn tells me to live.
A god with the power to destroy all in its wake,
But a god with the power to calm me and push me onward.
Now.
The crowds roar is of insane blood thirst.
40,000 hands wave and beat at the dusted air, toward the realms of Apollo.
Our gladiator knows nothing of fear.
No longer does he shake in the wake of thunder.
For he is carved and sculpted of rock,
Tempered with a white fire that can never be relinquished.
He fights for glory in death,
An ultimate retribution.
His muscles ripple as he moves slowly toward the center of the arena.
The sun shines on his tanned skin,
His body glistening with sweat,
His feet drenched in blood.
On the road to Rome.
He is a slave to his master.yet is adorned with metal and armored to his head.
Masked as a hero,
Yet with a helm that hides his humanity.
He is godlike to his noble fans.
Fans that want only for him to finally die.
His master manipulates him as a tool for coin and greed.
Yet the gladiators heart remains stronger than ever.
He is 1000 times more grateful,
For he is so powerful even the Gods of Olympus bow down before his name.
Achilles himself would have blushed.
For fear is not his friend,
Nor is she his enemy.
She fears his passing,
She does not want to meet him in Hades.
Gladiator looks up onto the crowds making no judgment.
His breath is heavier then a galloping horse.
Blood mist resonates from his helm.
Tears flow from underneath the metal mask.
He looks down at the ground.
crimson rose pedals are strone around his feet.
In the same color.
His hand tightens around his spear.
His shield is at his side.
She has been for so long.
She has seen through his entire walk.
On the road to Rome.
His opponent is famous in Crete.
Said to have run with the centaur of Adena,
And to have wrestled the hydras of the southern seas.
He is said to have stared into the eyes of Medusa her self.
Reducing her to ash.
But,
He is adorned only with a beaded necklace of almond seeds.
And his sandals are not covered in blood but sown with hemp.
He bares no armor, no sword and shield.
His man bears only his eyes.
Brighter then the most beautiful emerald jewel.
Our gladiator is calm now.
He smiles for he knows and can see the history of his opponent by his eyes.
An adversary to be reckoned with.
It would be glorious to defeat him,
But the gladiator smiles,
For it would be divine to be silenced by him.
The gladiator roars and raises his spear.
Behold the dust,
for by it you are born,
And by it we shall both rest.
I have walked this road,
Yes it is paved in blood and moarter.
Yet your feet are clean.
I shall put down my shield,
For my past is of no concern.
I shall put down my spear,
For I have two hands as well.
The one with the emerald eyes just gazes.
A smile streams across his face.
The crowds are silent.
The battle begins and ends in moments.
The dust shall remember the names of the ones who walked here,
And the winds shall deliver the message.
The crowds are still silent.
And the last pedal falls to the ground.
Reminiscence of the past,
And Forward to the future.
Blood Sweat and tears.
We walk barefooted with our sword and shield.
Years of training grant us our sandals.
The gladiator.
He roars into the sky for a death well granted,
An honor well deserved.
The crowds scream now.
Their voices more engulfing then the cyclones of Neptune,
Full of heart, yet full of blood thirst.
The taste of iron on the tips of every tongue.
Now.
Shield and blade in hand I walk.
The battered road I wander,
Kicking up dust in the path behind me.
More dust ahead.
Blood splattered nose, salt soaked tears.
The Crossing is ahead.
Forward.
The steel of the tracks are rusty and cold this night.
Rocks and rubble are strayed about them.
The metal begins to sing as its God approaches.
Red flashes in its coming,
Metal beams bow before its reckoning.
Metal beasts clamber to a halt and rumble in fear.
On either side of the road.
I sit and wait.
Eyes of an audience sit and watch.
As I challenge the God of the steel track.
Train, God to man on tracks.
He roars in my face,
His light is beaming and overwhelming.
Nothing can hide from it.
Fear engulfs me as he approaches,
He does not want me gone.
He wants me to continue,
On the road to Rome.
Horns blare.
Fear makes me jump.
Away.
God Train passes before me towards its foreseen and known path.
Massive engines power its turbines and gears,
Yet a small horn tells me to live.
A god with the power to destroy all in its wake,
But a god with the power to calm me and push me onward.
Now.
The crowds roar is of insane blood thirst.
40,000 hands wave and beat at the dusted air, toward the realms of Apollo.
Our gladiator knows nothing of fear.
No longer does he shake in the wake of thunder.
For he is carved and sculpted of rock,
Tempered with a white fire that can never be relinquished.
He fights for glory in death,
An ultimate retribution.
His muscles ripple as he moves slowly toward the center of the arena.
The sun shines on his tanned skin,
His body glistening with sweat,
His feet drenched in blood.
On the road to Rome.
He is a slave to his master.yet is adorned with metal and armored to his head.
Masked as a hero,
Yet with a helm that hides his humanity.
He is godlike to his noble fans.
Fans that want only for him to finally die.
His master manipulates him as a tool for coin and greed.
Yet the gladiators heart remains stronger than ever.
He is 1000 times more grateful,
For he is so powerful even the Gods of Olympus bow down before his name.
Achilles himself would have blushed.
For fear is not his friend,
Nor is she his enemy.
She fears his passing,
She does not want to meet him in Hades.
Gladiator looks up onto the crowds making no judgment.
His breath is heavier then a galloping horse.
Blood mist resonates from his helm.
Tears flow from underneath the metal mask.
He looks down at the ground.
crimson rose pedals are strone around his feet.
In the same color.
His hand tightens around his spear.
His shield is at his side.
She has been for so long.
She has seen through his entire walk.
On the road to Rome.
His opponent is famous in Crete.
Said to have run with the centaur of Adena,
And to have wrestled the hydras of the southern seas.
He is said to have stared into the eyes of Medusa her self.
Reducing her to ash.
But,
He is adorned only with a beaded necklace of almond seeds.
And his sandals are not covered in blood but sown with hemp.
He bares no armor, no sword and shield.
His man bears only his eyes.
Brighter then the most beautiful emerald jewel.
Our gladiator is calm now.
He smiles for he knows and can see the history of his opponent by his eyes.
An adversary to be reckoned with.
It would be glorious to defeat him,
But the gladiator smiles,
For it would be divine to be silenced by him.
The gladiator roars and raises his spear.
Behold the dust,
for by it you are born,
And by it we shall both rest.
I have walked this road,
Yes it is paved in blood and moarter.
Yet your feet are clean.
I shall put down my shield,
For my past is of no concern.
I shall put down my spear,
For I have two hands as well.
The one with the emerald eyes just gazes.
A smile streams across his face.
The crowds are silent.
The battle begins and ends in moments.
The dust shall remember the names of the ones who walked here,
And the winds shall deliver the message.
The crowds are still silent.
And the last pedal falls to the ground.
Reminiscence of the past,
And Forward to the future.
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