The Dying Gaul


The Dying Gaul
The Dying Gaul

No equine ride into the town square this time, this is a different kind of victory,

The victory of a strong arm defying an increasingly heavier weight –

An increasingly weaker arm.

His head bends now as that of one bowed in thought.

After the battle rages, others will ride forth on their horses into the town square.

For now though, the surrounding clamors begin to ebb,

As if to regard a final moment of intimate thought.

This is a different kind of victory.

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