*****

We were all young once,
with stars in our eyes,
our futures glistening,
full of hope and surprise.

How cruel, then, the moment,
how random the design,
to steal away his brilliance
‘Fore its luster could shine.

Leaving might have been,
forever arrested in time,
like amber-clad memories
of a runner in his prime.

Whose promise seemed boundless,
his star in ascent,
a talent for the ages,
as if from Olympus sent.

But the fates are implacable,
unmoved by our sorrow,
indifferent to greatness,
no thought to the morrow.

His family and friends
carry on as they can,
placing one foot ‘fore another
through their own measured span.

And what dreams remain
of history so near,
must now find another,
though who is unclear.

Yet this world still spins,
its seasons turning,
the circuit moving swiftly,
embracing our yearning. 

Like when Kelvin arose
as Eliud was fading,
a new star ascendant,
his record erasing.

But records, like glory,
are fleeting as breath,
for he, too, was taken
before the ink fully set.

Still, the races continue,
new champions feted,
Old records broken,
fresh memories created.

Yet hopes and dreams
remain shambolic things,
rising and falling
like birds on the wing.

And cheers once buoyant,
so loud and so bright,
in memory hang silent,
shrouded in night.

Where fled the glory
that once stirred our cries?
Who casts the lots
that measure our lives?

END

In memory of the one-year anniversary of the tragic death of marathon world record holder Kelvin Kiptum and his coach Gervais Hakizimana, who perished in a one-car accident driving home to their training camp in Kaptagat from Eldoret, Kenya late at night.