By Simranjit Singh Arora
I am the Spirit that dances unseen,
A phantom of fortune in realms far deep;
I weave through the moments, a capricious breeze,
Unfolding the fates with the turn of the seas.
No mortal can hold me, no hand can command,
For I am the wisp that escapes from the sand.
I shimmer in dice as they tumble and spin,
A flicker of hope where dreams may begin;
I hide in the shadows, I gleam in the light,
A glimmer of gold in the depths of the night.
Yet fickle my favor, as fleeting as air,
A blessing unbidden, a gift unaware.
I crown the ambitious, the bold I embrace,
Yet flee from the fearful who falter in place.
I am not their servant, yet still I abide,
A muse to the daring who venture and stride.
In trials of chance, I am both boon and bane,
A tempest of joy or a sorrowful rain.
In whispers of serendipity, I am found,
In treasures uncovered, where mysteries abound;
Yet woe to the soul who depends on my grace,
For I am as transient as clouds that race.
No promises linger, no ties do I keep,
I visit the waking and vanish in sleep.