The finish line awaits
One who runs with a focus
heading to a point where it counts the most
Desolate, solitude, lonely, and scary is the path
Carcass of giants lay on the desolate soil
Cries of fallen soldiers fill the peaceful night
Precipitate of faintness saturates the blue cloud
But all these are no worries for a purpose seeker
In the land of purposeful warriors
Records of failures are erased
The roaring sea their ally
Fear, a word that never exist
Their gaze on the finish line
And the flag that hangs high on the hill town
The road is crooked and narrow
But their eyes are fixed for the greater crown