the poetry marathon (the final poem)

what sweet victory do my eyes behold?
the sweetest story ever told;
how strangers came from every hand-
and wrote themselves a promised land;
and tainted not one single sound
but did indeed make love abound.
then in the final hour, spent-
gave their souls to words without repent;
and as their eyes did sleep pursue-
their brains turned off, just to renew-
to come back strong some other day-
to the poetry marathon and have their say.

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