No Game

What nature
Doesn’t realize
Is that kindness
Matters less
To the proud
And winning people
Whose triumph
Offers more

When playing fate
For freedom
Of its context
With wars
Made of decisions
By declaring
Bets are off

Now choosing
Bigger dreams
Over gains
Both small and waning
From their prisons
As wishes
Built on chance

Still meaning
To proceed
Despite those odds
Against them
Beyond all worth
Or measure
Of the hope
Which conquers death

Not of their loss
But a God
That means conceding
To the vagueness
Of forgiveness
Like evidence
Showing grief

As hurt
Which must propel
And drive their marches
In a wave
Of frenzied masses
Who claim each battle

That they’re wrong
And proving
Games are vile
While swearing
Something special
Is deserved
For those engaged.

– J. Pigno

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