Golden Fists

In the ring of gold, where shadows play, Two warriors stand, their fists at bay. The crowd holds its breath, a silent cheer, As strength and skill are about to appear. The ropes, a circle of might and will, Enclose the stage where heroes are made still. The lights, a cascade of golden glow, Illuminate the fighters, as they prepare to go. Their bodies, chiseled, a testament to their might, Their eyes, a burning fire, that fuels the fight. The air is thick, with tension and with pride, As they face off, their wills, side by side. In this moment, they are one, in purpose and in fate, Their hearts, ablaze, with a warrior's state. The gold, a symbol, of their highest aim, To stand victorious, and to know their name.