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Born

Some of this is make believe.
Or at least, it starts that way,
for we all need to believe.

There's a dream each of us can be.
The glory of purpose,
of worth,
of team.

Rhymes often fail at the line,
and the splendid sounds
often drift far out of bounds.

Still,
we strive.

Maybe it strikes deep at our core
underneath our seams,
this will to survive.

Maybe, such is our human need,
this love for life, to be fully alive.


Published in Forever Journal by Poetic Matrix Press,2016
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: games,sports
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