Poetry

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The Most Dangerous Game

A great game, you say, you want to play.

A fun one, a pleasant one, a cool one.

The bets are made, the wagers are in.

The rules are ignored or just merely skimmed.


Yet, not is it realized

That the stakes are dangerously high.

Yet, not is it fathomed

That the one bet is your life.


You thought you could slyly count the cards

Or you could slip them up your sleeve

You've even thought to cause a distraction

But the only one fooled is the cheat


You're ahead in the game, you say

You've got them all wondering, admiring, fooled

You hold your best poker face

But before you've begun, you're already through.


The wool is pulled over your eyes,

You can't see left from right, nor right from wrong.

The world, your dealer, has blinded you.

And the prize they won't keep back from you for long.


You could live hard and fast, you say

You could live fun and free

You could work hard enough in the day

And at night party, the fare cheap


You could do what you want

You are ruled by no one, you say

But little do you know

There is a pretty price to pay


The fool lives for the day when he'll have anything he wants

The fool lives life his way, by his rules, on his terms

The warnings are there, flashing red all long

The alerts are ignored, 'til the day the reaper must come


That is not fair, you say, you did not see the signs

That is not right, you plead, if you saw you would've consigned

But the question that remains after all is said and done

Is, what kind of game you thought you were playing and won?


These rules, did you make them?

Your life, did you create?

The rewards, do you deserve them?

And what, after this game, comes next?


Some say a rematch is offered, for you in another life.

Some say there is nothing, just a state of nonbeing.

Some say, not to worry, just live life your way.

But all those "games" are cheap, empty and seem fleeting.


You must face up to the fact that life is more than a game.

Sure it could be fun, or could be full of pain.

But there's always an end, for both great and small.

Everyone must give their due, at the end of it all.


The price for this life is too great for any to pay.

This match is a winless one when fought all alone.

This life's meant to be solely dependant on another.

It's only a fast track to death when you stand on your own.


Before the game even started it had to be won.

Before teams were chosen, there was a victorious one.

The losing side is that where life could be lived on it's own.

The winning is accepting you're merely living on a loan.


All things were created for His purpose and pleasure.

All things are hinged on His Truth, His alone.

All things have an end without His great Being.

All things declare Jesus, the fact that He has won.


Evil entered the world when one thought he can live his own way.

Death naturally followed, now there was an unending debt to be paid.

The only apt one to reconcile the matter

is the One outside of this fatal, inevitable spiral


Outside of this pain is His perpetual comfort

Outside of this dark evil His light reveals and it tames

Outside of death and destruction His life sustains and gives hope

By Jesus's death and rising did He beat this most dangerous game


To it's surprise He paid the debt and met it on it's own terms.

To it's dismay He released it's hopeless prisoners.

To it's absolute rage He undone it's lethal upper hand.

His rising above death with His life is where we can now stand.

Jessica Hayes

July 22, 2013

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