The field still steams, the arrows rest
Blood on stone, and fate confessed
They stood the tide with shield and cry
And turned the gods to mortal sky

But one alone must bear the sound
The victory call, the sacred bound
No chariot, no winged flight
Just two worn legs and burning light

Run for the word, no time to fall
A city waits behind its wall
Breathe through fire, past fear and flame
For death is nothing next to name

The hills rise up like lion jaws
The heart forgets what muscle was
With every step, the world turns gray
But Athens must not lose this day

The sandals break, the lungs collapse
Yet still he drives through time’s own gaps
The message clenched behind dry teeth
A name to give, before no breath

Run for the word, through pain and dust
No coin, no crown, just sacred trust
The gods may watch, but men must speak
And glory falls on broken feet

Stone on stone, the gates in sight
The faces blur in blinding light
He falls to knees, he finds no fear
And whispers low: *“We won. They hear.”*

Run for the word, let ages sing
Of one who died, but bore the ring
A name, a breath, a fleeting flame
A man who ran—and earned a name

Run for the word… and leave the rest