Jan 23, 2012

The Essence of Purity

Editor's Note: Watching the Zards Friday night, Cap City felt a fire in his belly, and the only cure was sweet, sweet poetry. What follows is a meditation on youth and folly.

Into the eyes of the defender he gazes
A lion surveying his prey
Whether he will score isn't a question
The only one being which way

Like a Titan, with strides enormous
He journeys across the lane
The helpless Nugget following
Desperate, seeming in vain

A vision, a young Kareem
The ball he flicks with his wrist
These eyes have seen beautiful sights
But none as pure as this

The sphere arcs steadily upward
Apollo in morning flight
Then begins the graceful descent
As the chariot retires by night

The stadium, captivated, tenses
With bated breath it awaits
While nine other warriors battle
Rebounding position at stake

With certainty the deliverer watches
The misused future of the NBA
As the skyhook he so gracefully floated
Comes down to rest at bay

Yet somehow the net remains motionless
Undisturbed in its repose
Anyone who previously doubted
Now with certainty knows

Stop shooting skyhooks JaVale.

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