No matter how hard you may struggle to prevent,
 There seem to be twists and turns you can never detour
 That counteract all the tricks you can ever invent,
 As if some power before-hand had determined that tour.
  
 Born like a clairvoyant to his own fate half-blind
 Who finds his wayward way into a tight-rope bind,
 He ends up as his own fate’s powerless prey
 Raving as in a strait jacket or like a beast at bay,
  
 Or having gambled with his life, himself but a gambit,
 He manages to find consolation in the smallest tidbit,
 Only to see coming undone his own house of cards,
 Subject to a rigid rule that every hand discards,
  
 Now that the Queen of Spades has shown up to take
 Everything of his life he put at such risky stake,
 And an end shall be put to that life-long stale-mate,
 By a Knight on a Pale Horse to announce “check-mate!”
  
 Bugling a signal for the finally broke
 Left only with a heart that totally broke,
 That it’s about time he should go,
 As empty-handed he first came here so.
  
 May Thou receive him, a fumbling gambler
 Who also was on Earth a restless rambler,
 With Thy grand hand so peaceful and bountiful forever, 
 And close his forgiven hand with 30 pieces of silver
  
 Worth a few crumbs from the Master’s table 
 That would be more than enough to heal and fill 
 His hungering soul, though it has never been able 
 To stand humble, as on Thy Sacrificial Hill!