To fight is THE choice

A tribute to you,
the past me,
for fighting it out.
It was cold and wet,
Men were wicked,
Pockets were empty,
it was a long walk uphill,
from the edges of poverty,
to a respectful life.
All along in perfect knowledge
that it's just a stage
and its all an illusion.
But if that's the way
the game is played,
well that's how
you will play it.
It was pretty dark back then,
insults were heaped generously.
All you had was the dream
to make it to the top
and you did.
All you needed to fight
was you and you alone.
There were times
when a passer-by stood
and gave a glance
at your struggle.
May be he took a lesson
or two from you.
The strength came from with-in,
from outside
when you saw determination
to fight it out.
To fight is a choice,
a chance you took,
when there was nothing to lose.
To fight is the choice,
in absence of any chance to win.
To fight is noble,
when the other option
is to bow like a weed.
It was a hurricane
which you survived.
To see what you have seen
To think what you have lived
is to go through all hell on earth.
You did not take it upon fate,
nor on God,
You did not ask help,
You fought it,
with all that you had,
though it was nothing.
You believed that the darkest tests
you had
were the best lessons.