The round leather
on fire
not put off
by any bounce
on the floor
or its sojourn in
mid-air
or hitting the boards
the rim
and eventually
the ring
One thousand shots missed
meant 10 thousand sinking in
The fire in the leather
borne of a flaming hand
from a heart ablaze
which can only come from
no less than the divine
That fire
might have
succumbed to the sky
but it found its home -
In thousands
Hundreds of thousands
Millions upon millions
Kindled
Ablazed
Always
Rest in peace brother
