He lived to win…

He won…never succeeded
He won the heart of poverty
He won the daughter of despair
He won a gold in failure
His olympics…the podium of the unfit.
He loved to pray…
He always prayed
He prayed death would come swiftly
He prayed his wife would return
He prayed that God would glance at him
He prayed as he cried.
He was the king, not a king
The king with a jigger kingdom
Endowed with the wealth of the poor: nothing.
He lived in his castle…of rusted, leaking iron.
And rode his 2 wheeled carriage…the cart.
He missed death…anticipated his last breath
A day to finally achieve his moment of glory
On that day, he would smile and sneer at the blue marble…

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The lorry hurtled as he pulled his cart across Mombasa Road…
He was deep in sad thought…
His was a death that he much sought..