The Fight
Fighting to achieve the perfect experience,
You step into the ring with a seasoned fighter.
He sticks and moves, kicks and grabs,
Two bodies entangled in desire.
Desire to control and seek,
Desire to be free,
Desire to overcome him,
And stay up on your feet,
So that you can then be free,
From a fight that steals your peace,
So that from the grip of hurt and pain,
You can finally be released.
But your opponent is so experienced,
He completely owns the ring,
And eventually even when you try,
You can not even flee.
You grab the towel from your trainer
And throw it in yourself,
Winning the fight is not worth
Any more of this awful hell.
The towel lands on your opponent's face,
The fighter can no longer see
His victim to grab on to,
To wrestle to defeat.
And while he is blinded
You move quickly on your feet,
Merge back in with the audience,
And gently take a seat.
Seems like cowardice to many,
So many do not try,
They would rather fight all day
Than end conflict with their life.
And although so many people
Will still fight with fist and feet,
When you make your mind the enemy,
He will never admit defeat.
It is only when you give up
From using personal might,
That comically he loses power,
Without you, there is no fight.
From the book:
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