Maybe Six Is Waiting

Tonight,
the moon is holding a dice
inside its mouth.

I can hear it turning
when the world becomes quiet.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Nobody knows
who is rolling it.

Nobody knows
what number is hiding
against the darkness.

Perhaps that is what life is,

a hand we cannot see
throwing possibilities
into the night.

You rolled once
and got a one.

You rolled again
and found a two.

The world laughed
as if numbers were destiny.

But the dice whispered,

“Again.”

So you tried.

You lost something.

You watched a door close.

You stood in the ruins
of plans you once called certain.

And somewhere above you,
the stars rearranged themselves
without explaining why.

You thought the story was over.

It wasn't.

The dice had simply
not finished rolling.

Perhaps tomorrow
it will land differently.

Perhaps tomorrow
the number you have been waiting for
will finally face the sky.

Perhaps you will wake
and find your six
standing beside your bed
like a silent stranger.

No explanation.

No warning.

Just six.

And you will wonder
why you ever believed
the earlier numbers
were the whole story.

That is the mystery of life.

We are given pieces
without seeing the puzzle.

We are handed doors
without knowing where they lead.

We meet people
who change our lives
and disappear like smoke.

We lose things
we thought would stay forever.

We find things
we never knew we were searching for.

And somewhere beneath it all,

the invisible dice
keeps rolling.

Maybe the night
is not punishing you.

Maybe it is only
turning the dice over.

Maybe the silence
is not empty.

Maybe something
is being prepared
behind the curtain.

So if today
you rolled a one,

do not bury your hope
with the number.

If today
you rolled a three,

do not mistake it
for the final answer.

And if you rolled a six,

hold it gently.

Because nothing in this world
belongs to us forever.

The dice can change hands.

The moon can lose its light.

The strongest tower
can become dust.

The darkest road
can suddenly open
into a garden.

You may lose today.

You may lose tomorrow.

You may even forget
what winning feels like.

But somewhere in the darkness,

the dice is still moving.

Click.

Clack.

Listen.

There.

Did you hear that?

The sound was small.

Almost nothing.

But it came from the future.

And perhaps,

just perhaps,

the next roll

will be better.

Perhaps the number
you have been waiting for
is already falling
through the darkness.

Perhaps your six
is not lost.

Perhaps it is only

on its way

to you.