In the dust and roar of engines’ might,
Where thrill meets peril, day turns to night,
A champion danced with gravity’s grace,
His heart was the engine, the world his race.
Ken Roczen, a name that sparked flame and light,
With courage aflame, he soared to new heights,
But fate, ever cruel, cast its shadowed hand,
And in a heartbeat, he fell, unplanned.
The track was alive, the crowd breathed a prayer,
As he carved through the turns, defying despair,
Yet destiny whispered, a storm in her sigh,
And the air turned to silence, as dreams dared to die.
In the face of the sun, where the champions rise,
A hero lay shattered, beneath open skies,
His bike, once a steed, now rusted in grief,
The world stood in mourning, struggling for belief.
Tributes poured forth, like rain falls in spring,
Each story a testament, the heartstrings they cling—
Fans and fellow racers, with heavy, tear-filled eyes,
Remembered his laughter, his wins, and his ties.
For in every rev, every daring advance,
He taught us the beauty, the thrill of the chance,
The grit and the glory, the bruises of fate—
He raced with his spirit, then left us to wait.
In pits where he trained, echoes linger and wail,
The bikes stand in silence, a sorrowful tale,
Yet in every heartbeat, his legend remains,
In whispers of motocross, love conquers the pains.
So here’s to the journey, the lengths he would go,
To the fire that burned bright, through high and through low,
In sadness we rally, racing’s heartfelt embrace,
For Ken, our warrior, we honor your grace.
Though the engine’s now quiet, and the race flags are furled,
Your spirit revs onward, forever unfurled,
In every wild rider, in every last cheer,
You live on, dear Ken, you’ll always be near.
Leave a Reply