Andrew D. Anderson » Poetry » Lucky Man

exhausted, panting, hands and knees
resting on sweat-covered ground

worthless now, but victorious, too
the soaked, pathetic-looking man stood

stumbled out to the edge of the plateau
and let out a resonating yell

that expired whatever energy he had left.

it was that moment he lived for
and that moment that he died for

most would say he was a lucky man.