May the Best Man Win
In a room cloaked in shadow and firelight’s glow,
Two rivals sit across, face-to-face, toe-to-toe.
The stakes are immense, and the rules are set thin—
Both eye the same prize: may the best man win.
The stakes set in silence, unspoken, but known;
Each wears his scars, each calls courage his own.
Through battles and burdens, each holds his pride,
Yet both are haunted by secrets inside.
One is clad in the armor of fate, ironbound,
With years etched in lines from the life he has found.
The other is younger, eyes bright with his fire,
Sharp as a dagger, fierce with desire.
Between them lies honor, the prize, and the test,
Of who can withstand, and who is the best.
They rise and they circle, each mirroring each,
Poised on the brink, within desperate reach.
I. The Veteran
The first is a warrior, tempered by years,
His battles are written in blood and in tears.
He’s known the cold taste of hunger and loss,
Paid, time after time, fate’s heaviest cost.
He’s walked through the wastelands, left tracks in the sand,
Climbed treacherous mountains by calloused hand.
He’s buried old friends and mourned at their stones,
He’s paid for his dreams with flesh and with bones.
Years of sharp duty carved out of his youth,
Forged him in fires both bitter and true.
His strength lies in patience, his wisdom in scars,
His weapon, his mind, in the midnight of wars.
Yet, he knows what he’s given, what he’s laid down,
The dreams left behind him, like a torn crown.
In this battle tonight, for glory and skin—
He steps forth with pride: may the best man win.
II. The Challenger
The second, far younger, stands bold and stands tall,
Unscarred by the battles that cause others to crawl.
He’s driven by fire, his vision is clear,
Unfazed by the specters that linger near.
He walks with a swagger that comes from the heart,
Untested in strife, yet fierce in his art.
A master of theory, a king of his youth,
Bearing ideals unscathed by hard truth.
He looks at the world and feels it his own,
Thinks victory’s owed to the young and unknown.
He is fueled by the hunger of all he has missed,
The dreams not yet broken, the chances unkissed.
Bold in ambition, quicksilver in stride,
His gaze holds no shadows; his dreams are his guide.
This night, he faces a battle of men,
Ready to conquer; may the best man win.
III. The Duel
They meet at the circle, both silent, both still,
Wrestling with courage, bending their will.
One steady as granite, one flashing with fire,
A study in contrasts: age versus desire.
They test their defenses, each word like a blow,
Each challenge as bitter as rivers that flow.
They spar not with weapons but thoughts and with fears,
Stripped down to truths that come through the years.
They recount their battles, their dreams and their pains,
The sacrifices buried in heartache and gains.
Each speaks of losses, of triumphs, of past,
Each vow a contract, each word meant to last.
They talk through the night, till the dawn draws close,
Eyes lined with truth, faces fragile as ghosts.
And yet, they are equals, each bold in his skin—
Facing that silence: may the best man win.
IV. The Resolution
The morning breaks softly with cool mist and peace,
Their words dissipate; old grievances cease.
For they know that the prize they each sought to claim,
Was never the goal, but a test of their flame.
The elder lets go, with a smile of grace,
As the younger steps forward to take his place.
A nod of respect, no shame in defeat,
For victory’s song finds all equal in beat.
The youth moves ahead, his spirit aglow,
A torch passed on, so that he might know
That honor’s not won by the young or the old,
But earned in the moments when courage turns bold.
They part as brothers, both having gained,
No wounds to carry, no loss to be pained.
For victory’s sweetest when freely given,
When one steps forward, another forgiven.
So when life tests courage, as it always will,
And pride stands tall, ever stubborn, ever still,
Let each hold their ground, rise from within,
And face the challenge: may the best man win.
