It was hard to watch him fight for nothing in particular. 

To strive for no real goal. 

To watch him try his best in the day for a rest he would not get in the night. 

Not when his worries shone like stars in his darkened mind:
Endless and Multiplying.

It was hard to watch him try when I knew he would have to try again, 

to always try again. 

There was no prize. 

No victory song to sing in loud glee. 

No happy tears to shed because the journey would finally be complete. 

And he would finally be the winner. 

And I would be by his side, and our laughs would echo across galaxies, 

sharing the tale of his survival. 

Proclaiming through golden notes that he had won, and that the world could indeed be conquered. 

And that dreams which are chased could indeed be caught.

But this was not to be.

And the tears shed remained sad, 

and our song only remained a whisper of hopes that would not rise from their slumber.

Hopes that refused to be awoken from words to breathe their own life, 

To become real. 

Instead laughter remained trapped beneath sighs, 

Pulling themselves out our mouths with great force. 

Taunting us with a reality that refused to walk on the tips of its toes, 

Instead crashing down on the earth with great stomps and vigor, 

Reminding us how easily we are shaken. 

Reminding us of how easily we are thrown about by a world that refuses to be conquered- 

But challenges us to try as we bruise for its own pleasure. 

Our scars the scorecard of a game rigged to be lost.

The challenger receives no spoils. 

Just merely an invitation to try again.

And as the new day would dawn, so he would. 

Try again. 

Because tired bones never stop til they are returned to dust, 

and the will never out of reach til fingers are unable to grasp. 

And as hard as it was to watch him lose. 

It was even harder not to hope that one day he would win.

By: WerepupJeremy
Photography by: Melissa Cheng