Gladiator
Standing by the Colosseum's door,
In the shimmering armour he wore.
He grunts and takes a step forward,
As the massive doors open inward.
His metal chains clink as he paces,
Staring up at the thousands of faces.
That greet him with screams of death,
Fueling the gladiator's so fiery a breath.
A table is laid over which the blades rest,
He tries them all, then chooses the best.
The choice of which he makes,
There is no room for mistakes.
The sun batters down upon the field,
He looks upwards and raises his shield.
Standing at a distance is his foe,
His death would be painful and slow.
Both ready to fight till the death'd bite,
Either or both of them and end this fight
With no further thought they charged,
As the massive doors were barred.
The crowd burst into screams of life and death,
As dodging a blow, he swore under his breath.
His adversary was furious, he no less,
Each move counted, like a game of chess.
Blows he'd dodge and blows he'd give,
It was for what he'd come down to live.
The crowd chants death as if it were a hymn,
Spilling blood had become routine for him.
And when it was felt they fought equally hard,
One swift move of his caught the foe off guard.
The crowd erupted into screams once again,
As it looked like he won his part of the bargain.
The foe numb with pain, started to sway,
Death for him was just a fatal blow away.
He crouched, now at the mercy of his foe,
Closing his eyes, awaiting the final blow.
With a sword in his hand, a helpless foe at his feet.
The dominance he felt, was strangely incomplete.
Although the sword he bore was at his will,
Ready to strike down his worthy kill.
A faint conscience somewhere within him stirs,
Which expeditiously grows till him it blurs.
An ominous silence now covers the crowd,
As guilt, now hovers above him like a cloud.
Astonishingly, his sword rises to take the blow,
Bringing it fiercely downwards then he lets go.
It's a moment previously unwitnessed in history,
That someone lets go an inch away from victory.
The crowd, their mouths now wide open,
His deed, screamed what couldn't be spoken.
Cowardice! Someone from the crowd bellowed,
Soon enough, across the Colosseum 'coward' echoed.
He ignored them and turned around,
His feet still felt shaky on the ground.
But his mighty heart was content at last,
Never had he felt happiness so vast.
His foe though hadn't forgotten his part,
He had long practised, mastered the art.
The final blow, he was the one to impart,
As he put his sword through a content heart.
And as he fell, a feeble smile escaped his lips,
As with both hands his bleeding heart he grips.
The feeble smile now a painful laughter,
As he'd achieved the much sought after.
The hooting crowd now fell dead silent,
Was the scene for them a bit too violent?
Or perhaps the dead had become the valiant?
Hearts were moved. That was apparent.
And even as the gladiator peacefully lay,
People had learnt a lesson, if only for a day.
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