The wheel of fortune spins, an enigmatic force,
As luck\'s capricious draw takes its remorseless course.
Irony weaves its threads, in a twisted display,
For those with abundance seek more, day after day.
No rhyme or reason guides this tempestuous game,
Neither fleeting nor enduring, it remains untamed.
But when the hammer falls, striking with relentless might,
What once flourished now fades, disappearing from sight.
In this theatre of shadows, where hopes and dreams collide,
The pursuit of fulfilment, a ceaseless, haunting tide.
Yet the void remains, an insatiable thirst,
As the ones with the most still yearn, their souls unrehearsed.
Oh, darling, how the fates toy with our desires,
Leaving us gasping, consumed by inner fires.
No solace in logic, no solace in time\'s span,
For when the final blow strikes, all slips through our hands.
Gone, like whispers in the night, the treasures we hold dear,
Lost to the abyss, consumed by darkness, crystal clear.
But amidst this melancholic dance, a sliver of truth resides,
That in surrendering to loss, our spirit ultimately guides.
For it\'s in the depths of sorrow, where strength is reclaimed,
Where resilience blossoms, relentless and untamed.
So let the wheel spin, let fortune\'s hand unfold,
For even when it\'s gone, a resilient heart shall hold.