“The Night of Iron Kings”
Tonight the lights burn brighter than dawn,
Bronzed bodies gleam where the gods are drawn.
A temple of thunder, the air alive—
Each breath a battle, each flex a drive.
The stage is no mere stage—it’s war,
A field where pain has earned rapport.
The clang of plates was once their hymn,
In solitude, in sweat, in dim.
They carved from flesh what time would take,
Defied the frailty men forsake.
Each rep a vow, each scar a brand,
Each dream upheld by calloused hand.
And now—one stands, the new anointed,
A titan risen, fate appointed.
The crown of Olympia rests on his frame,
But all who stood beside share flame.
For though one wears the victor’s chain,
All bore the weight, all fought the strain.
They are warriors of sinew and soul,
Who turn their torment into whole.
No laurels last, no moment stays,
But glory lives in the iron ways.
In every heart that dares the fight—
A spark is crowned again tonight.
