Cards folded they lie inert on display
their story untold from then to today
and a useless, discarded, foray into life
wasted, I bet, in the soon afterlife.
The winning hand yours; I’m not appalled,
ordained we are winners or losers of all.
No go-between, seer, or gentle soothsayer,
enlightens a fool to an experienced player.
Deal again and again, oh, mysterious friend,
the phantom of dreams walks on to the end
this time to the wall no one passes through
to uncover and discover a different view.
Like sugar to bears temptations fine lair
draws in and deceives the innocent, fair,
until the call made, “wake up to today”
folds into the pack long lost yesterdays.
The loser the soul, the winner our pride,
and the phantom of dreams destined to die
struggles for breath in mind’s unholy mess
like spider webs turned into human distress.
But deal again life to the dead as before
and remember this time … no wake up call!
No comments:
Post a Comment