The Fool -IV

This is a poem spread across multiple pages. Please read in order. please click on links below the read the earlier passages from the poem.

The Fool - I.
The Fool - II.
The Fool - III.

If stories are, what we tell ourselves
It better be of glory - of fighting spells-
Of successfully finding the way out-
Despite heavy odds, how one could surmount
And though the peak was never reached
Yet the courage to strive left everyone pleased
And made one worthy of a tale
Even though the quest is old and stale
Yet courage shown against the odds
Suffices to seal ones fate as gods
It doesn’t matter what ones actual fate
Whether one ends up living or ends up as Late
Or ends up with a mundane life
a 9 to 5 job, a kid, a wife.

Yet a glorious journey, is its own reward
The end doesn’t matter, nor does the start
What matters is the effort and how you fought
Not whether you won, or the battle was lost.
The war is never over, it’s a daily strife
How you cope with it, how you handle life
Distinguishes a hero from a common man
One need not win, one only can
Hope that the battle was worth the cause
Into which one rushed, without a pause
That would have revealed the dilemma inside
Whether one fought for a cause or for one’s own pride
Or whether one fought to stop looking like a fool
And was pushed into something as one lost ones cool.

However one fought, does it matter a dime
The quest and the battles and the courage sublime
Is enough to make one a hero in time
And to not honor them is a horrendous crime
The mercenary who fights for his daily wage
The patriot who fights for his country’s sake
Both are honored while they serve the kingdom
And on death are bestowed with martyrdom
It’s hard to distinguish the causes of ones acts
We lie to ourselves; we put on acts;
And why we did something is a mystery to us
Both good and evils acts can leave us nonplussed
Whether we are masters of our fate or just playing a part
Whether we are in the driver’s seat or driven like a cart?

So it’s futile to pass judgments on the fool
That things would be different if he just kept his cool
And decided not to take the journey first hand-
Was he who did deciding? Or was it a gang
Of fools that made him, who made him plod
And these millions of fools who collectively told
A story to him of the glorious quest
Of what he was missing- and what is at best
A mediocre life that he has to swap with the quest
And give meaning to these teeming fools that pest
And rot within clamoring for meaning and space
Not satisfied with his current life’s humdrum pace-
But urging him to move –even if without an aim
Weaving a story of glory around a useless game.

A game like gambling that is wasteful alike
Whose future is uncertain-whose payoff high
But unlikely to happen and out of reach
Only leading to ruin and to integrity breach
The quest is a gamble that wont likely pay off
The Grail is sought by many – so the cynics scoff
And the chance of a fool to nail the catch
Are extremely small- there is a catch
The millions of fool that make the fool
Have already decided on which narrative to drool
The glory of the journey is enough to push
The thoughts of doom under the bush
The story one will tell is of a battle well fought
And push under the carpet the Grail one sought