a suffocating pain crawls up his throat
as he watches from the observation deck
a home once his now pathetically remote
in the cosmic vastness an agonizing speck!

brave wanderer was his dusty restless boot
his mind a yearning traveler on endless roam
love flew like sparks without growing root
never was one place could he call his home!

now before him stands an infinite rocky terrain
inviting him to unveil her unexplored asset
replicate a habitat of a different light and rain
build there a refuge retrieve a broken nest!

his lips seek a prayer as if to shake off fears
as creeps up his spine cold night's stardust
whispering the void of four ninety light years
the story of lost empire and all the broken trust!

Life is a fighter's ring
        your opponent
is life's most downs
        with all its fury
forever challenging us most prevalent surely...

What type glory
         do you choose
when failing your fighter's round?
Do you pick yourself up
            after crashing
                           to the ground?

What glory in rising
          your situation
                   newly found?
What invention
              of yourself
in your up and coming round?

Do your cheering crowds please you
               your real friends know
your need?
Will you rise yourself up
          in a thunderous quickened speed?

So, your fighter's glory in rising
       each bout that you take
Will you rise yourself up
      for your honor is at stake...

-This is why i think that most average are heroes no matter what country-
RW Dennen