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The Twentieth Rune
The black streak’s gone, replaced by weary gray,
The white one’s just a pass to peace and rest.
You pause, mustering courage for the fray,
To melt into tomorrow’s self-contest.
But I get high on conquering my flaws—
Without it, life would drag in dull despair.
Can’t flee this boiling rush, it draws and gnaws,
This endless game has no final affair.
Can’t quit it like a kid’s old toy behind,
It’s “Jumanji,” the leitmotif of days.
Where Greed and Meanness—tried-and-true, you’ll find—
Bind you in chains through life’s deceptive maze.
But someday you must climb above it all,
O’er doubts, o’er weakness, o’er the grip of fear.
Leave all that pain as payment for the fall,
For life is battle—weak ones wear the gear.
To enter’s easy; exit’s victory true,
So let the game delight you while it may.
While floors beneath don’t sway and buck and heave,
And in the sky the twentieth rune holds sway.
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