Pins And Paths Of Life Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

The polished sphere, a weighted, gleaming thought,
Released, it traces paths that man has wrought.
A measured swing, a calculated grace,
To conquer pins, that stoic, wooden face.

Each roll, a choice, a chance to break the line,
A metaphor for moments yours and mine.
The scattered wood, a symbol of our flaws,
The fleeting strike, defying nature's laws.

But is it triumph or a hollow sound?
The perfect score on hallowed oiled ground.
For in the game, a deeper truth resides,
The constant struggle where the spirit glides.

The gutter's edge, a fear we all embrace,
The errant ball reflecting life's disgrace.
Yet still we rise to try another frame,
To find our balance in this fleeting game.