Dice, small plastic polyhedrons, an embodiment of randomness
We entrust the creation of values that we wish to be uncertain
To their unclear and complex physics.
And yet within them, within their essence. Many find reason.
Some can entrust them to provide excellent results when needed.
While others feel only their malice.
Paradoxically to the objective of these almost sacred objects
When one tosses these bones, The results are far from uncertain.
For one is entreating with their soul.
An entity of a numerical nature. assuming a calculating demeanor
Is the most basic mistake a newborn dice roller could make
For he is a god most foul
Other gods perform their duties with agendas simple and clear
Maintaining the order of the universe and consistency of action
But he has no interest in balance.
And while you may avoid him by cheating, swindling or rigging
having entered his domain, you have chosen to forsake your right
to a fair and balanced result.
He will form an opinion of you quickly, with little to no input
And from then on, the dice will act to his whims innately
your success and pain his to control.
Either propping you up in moments of crisis, or making you fall,
And speaking as one who is known for their falls, I will say honestly
His ire has its benefits.
After all, losing the battle makes winning the war all the sweeter
locked in a war against a malicious enemy whom cannot be seen
A battle against luck itself
YOU ARE READING
poetic mistakes
Poetryjust my musings Feel free to leave comments or whatever but don't expect me to do anything about it. This is just a place I put what I write
