Throw The Dice.... Poem by Da Ge

Chance is a fickle, fleeting king,
Whose throne is built on dreams we bring.
Coins are cast, and hopes take flight,
In numbered stars on a restless night.

A mother dreams of burdens gone,
A life where wealth might right the wrong.
Yet what is gold but fleeting sand,
Slipping through an eager hand?

To play the game, is it wise or vain?
To court the joy, to risk the pain?
For few are crowned by fortune's might,
While many wait in endless night.

What hope is there in the spinning wheel?
A flat in Edinburgh, a dream made real.
Munich calls with its warming glow,
A place where love and friendships grow.

Would I not give, should wealth be mine,
To Su and the Bridge, to causes divine?
To dogs, those friends who never betray,
A better life, their debts repaid.

Yet the truth persists, as wisdom speaks:
Not all who yearn will find what they seek.
But dreams are fires that burn so bright,
Guiding us through the shadowed night.

So cast your lot, let chance decide,
For hope itself is wealth inside.
And if the stars align for you,
Let your fortune bring the world anew.