Our weak and fragile race in infanthood
Standing on the edge of a bottomless precipice
Awaiting a mortal hero of infinite good
To emerge from the deep and dark abyss.
And with our daily binds did our souls call
For redemption from our burdens untold,
For a better life as our problems fall
And for defeat to our enemies of old.
Awake my hero, my earth bound angel.
We have dreams and plans to win.
With passion you’re trained and able.
As the games are about to begin.
Pop! Bang! The fireworks paint the sky;
Festive joy on a canvas of black;
Will your archer’s eyes reason why
Disease has always held us back?
Will you swim through the causes of floods?
Will you wave flags the colour of victory?
Will you beat global problems for good?
Bringing us peace for eternity?
Will your athletic mind resolve
Energy needs with theories and plans?
Will your technology jump and evolve?
Hopping, skipping through virgin sands?
And if the simple tears of a child,
Miss the warmth of its motherly love.
Will your marathon heart pause and smile?
Hurdling affection from above?
And if famine strikes your fellow man,
By indiscriminate war or nature’s hand;
Will you row with love to his desolate land?
Revive his pride and help him stand?
And when war rears its repulsive head,
Spreading death and destruction by fire;
Will you vault there to bring peace instead?
Teaching tolerance with love to inspire?
And if the ground shake a violent magnitude
And the land slips with his last remains
Will you throw the javelin of gratitude?
Restore his dignity and heal his pains?
I only see hope on parade,
The very best of human kind;
Pounding an old track newly laid;
Breaking records in record time.
Our daily, vivid, beautiful dream,
Is your task, impossible it seem;
Seeking answers and solutions gleaned.
Boosting our spirits,
Making us kings.
When you emerge, this is your toll,
To run and jump through hot and cold,
Be Earth’s champion;
Heal its gentle soul.
And when the arena cheers in Tokyo.
Deliver the goal.
Written by Everton Brome
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