Win some, only to lose some
The half-filled glass of antiquity.
The dejection, the joy that follows
The two sides of the gambler's coin.

Like a swing in perennial motion
Accelerates, decelerates and stops.
Nobody has a grasp, nobody ever will
On the uncertainty we call life.

To make joy while the sun shines,
To be content, yet always desirous.
Somewhere in the middle my path lies
If only it could be clearly seen.