Luckless

Throughout one's life, a finite sum of times,
occur when increase to the soul's estate
is possible. Involved in Karmic crimes,
a man is often caught in drama's vise
and too enmeshed to steer his inner fate,
much less appear clear-eyed to roll the dice.

Although somewhat pliant, there is an end
to lucky chance. The day will come, when clover
grows extinct. To rise, much less transcend,
re-douubled dedication to an aim,
must be one's 'whole-brain' goal. Play-days are over.
Sincerity is now the only game.

The final train will leave and take your luck.
One really can exhaust his turns at bat.
Once done with inner change, you're just a schmuck
whose eyes can see but mud. With heart that's numb
to bright and breathless things, and brain-grid flat,
in up-world terms, your blind and deaf and dumb.