quotiens

Were it all just a game
Strive to win – shame to lose
There’d be no point in trying
Only the best are blest
But failure is its own reward
To have fallen, yet to rise

Were it all just for things
Who collects the most while alive
Nothing is ever enough
Save rest for the dead
But having no cares is bliss
Hidden peace, forbidden highs

Were it all just a lie
Evolving, civilizing and back again
A creation of ideas not worlds
Supernovas blooming in reverse
But not knowing abets possibilities
Chosen few, or in for a surprise

***

(quotiens = Latin, “how many times”)

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