The city gates are always there
asking nothing while giving less
waiting for the travelers
to pass within as fortunes turn
fate's golden coin awaits a nudge
to consign the occupant
with the flush of happenstance
or the dearth of emptiness

either way the path unfolds
twisting deep into the depth
of the streets paved with gold
or stained red with old blood
these chill options hold no malice
though the odds may bless the house
the pound of flesh will be found
sating gears that must turn

this machine serves all men
equally granting grace's gifts
while the equals are measured by
the meaty hand on the scale's left side
celebrate privilege while you can
accept the praise however faint
because the gods may change their minds
allow the wheel to land on black

the metropolis will survive
a howling gulf beyond entry's way
portal to the heavenly heights
or a quick trip to abattoirs
evoking smiles on stoic masks
fixed attention to piety
city gates bound to luck's draw
receive your due when you intrude.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180625.