Every man has his test.
Be it one of will, strength,
Or loyalty.
This man's test
Is one of love.
The bleak November will pull taught every fiber of his being.
He will not break
He must run faster than he has ever run,
He must fight harder than he has ever fought,
He must
Endure.
She is the target,
He must become the marksman.
Every day, under the cruel November sun, he will push himself
Ever closer to trust,
Ever closer to love,
Ever closer to her.
Every man has his fight.
Be it one against evil, hate
Or self
He will hone his skills to be the best man that he can be,
For her
For his fight is one against doubt.
He will become a warrior, not for glory, not for honor,
He will become a warrior solely for the purpose of trust.
Her trust.
He loves her with more passion than he knew he had.
He will come back to her, nothing will stand in his way.
Every man has his day.
Be it one of sorrow, glee,
Or utter destruction.
He will stare death in the face and tell him "Not today"
He will have his day.
And his will be a day of completion.
For he will win his fight.
He will win her trust.
He can't lose. Not for her.
For this man's test
Is one of love.
And he will be prepared
Before that cruel November sun
Goes down.
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