We praise them with a fervor of death, with bloodlust and hunger, with belief and passion to conquer our foes,
Our voice is singular — one; and at eve of the sabbath we stand united, clenching our fists.
United, with adrenaline pumping and rushing through veins we are ready, prepared and screaming at the top of our voices only mouths are we.
Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things, but we
United, a cluster of hearts are we, but beating as one.
And afterwards, later, we drink as we hail our wins, we drink as we drench our sorrows, mourn our losses we drink.
This is the meaning of life, but you call it diversion, a game for the foolish, or wasting our time.
You know nothing; it’s football, my team; without it, I’d rather be dead.
Today at dVerse Sanna hosts Prosery at dVerse and the line we have to include is “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.” which turned out to be a bit challenging. I hope you don’t think I’m this passionate about any football team, but I do think that there are those who think life is all about the game and the team.