Pins and Paths of Life

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. ©bfa031425