I often wonder how it feels,

To stride the world like Alexander,

To roar through earth as mighty streams,

Be loved for my refreshing candor.

To duplicate a preachers sermon,

And have the chosen set ablaze,

To hear the starting gun in person,

Televised, as the millions gaze.

Upon the stage an actor’s playground,

Inside the ring a boxers throne,

The chef whose kitchen is his castle,

The songstress with her microphone.

To live and serve and to be served by crowds that heave with longing,

It is the strangest discipline, alone yet still belonging.

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