V: Games of Chance

A death is face of die on roll,

A stack that antes all.

To win requires a wagered soul

To meet and make the call.

A life is hand of cards on deal,

Where royals rarely draw.

The twos in bluff contrive to steal

What aces reap by law.

A love is tracked by racing course,

With bookies taking bets,

Where hopes distill to choice of horse

And leave the crowds with debts.

The world is framed by game and rule,

As if an ordered dance.

Each move, though played by sage or fool,

Results in whims of chance.

What fortune finds is fettered fate,

Unlocked by luck and never late.

• April 2025