The End of The Game

 

Playing the game

at the pace of our lives.

Playing to win

doesn’t absolve us

of our crimes,

but it does

take

everything

we ever had

and ever wanted

in return

for a world

made of lies.

 

Constant as sin,

break of the day,

the warnings were there,

we looked away.

We put ourselves

over the waves

and we came down

just

like

everything does,

eventually.

We were once

immaculate mortals,

never more than

passengers.

 

We invented wild

back stories

for all of our scars

and glory

came with the wind,

we never trimmed

our sails one bit,

we just rode in.

Now we’re marooned

out on this isle,

lost to the ones

we tried to buy

our affections from

with wit and with guile.

Now, we’re alone.

 

What does it cost?

Only everything.

What is the moral?

Does it mean anything?

We played the game

and lost,

but not as much

as those who won.

We paid the fare.

We chimed right in

when we were asked

how much we’d give,

we gave it all,

but now we are left

empty.

 

Fate of the world;

you can’t buy

what you need.

Everything

you need to live

is free.

You can’t force the shoots

to come out of the ground,

or the bull

to lay its head down.

We can’t force

anyone to care.

We try

and we despair.

The only thing

we get is air

when we reach up

to try to steal the sky

and we wonder why

the end of the game

seems so empty.

 

 

HG – 2022