When the floor has come fast against your face
The temptation is to stare there, and stay
Waiting for it to come off you and race
That you may keep running, it should the other way
But if the Earth has come to meet you
Feel honoured, and peacock your mind and chest
Then say “Bye”, and take the dust of too,
And just set off again to give your best.
You are at a loss for ideas or words
As the bishop hacks your queen with two swords
And the knight knocks your rooks off
And the distraught king is deep in the rough.
But life is not a game of chess.
The spectators are disinterested with stress
And the scoreboard tells your players to do less.
Everybody wishes the whistle would go
To keep the 7 fixed with respect to the zero.
But life is neither football nor soccer.
You can hear the breath drawing near your rear,
And you feel this race is anything but fair,
For the first will soon overtake the last,
And you wish being last at the finish can soon pass.
But life’s nothing like a track competition.
Life’s neither chess nor soccer nor races,
And even as you tally your sad faces,
And weigh your failures and fears,
There can be counted joys through the years.
Unlike the competition to defeat
Another with skill and brave feat,
Your life opponent is your very human soul,
Seeking perfection through tonnes of failed goals.
Yes. So what if you didn’t keep the resolution?
So what if clumsiness destroys a last surviving edition?
The damage you deem highest abomination
May not seem, but can be the route to better your condition.