A Fortunate Shot

A Fortunate Shot A fortunate shot resulted in a goal, As if it were a lucky rabbit's foot you possess, People lose control, A million or two more or less. The crowd roared like thunder, Their voices split the air, Some in joy, some in wonder, Fortune felt unfair. For one moment bright, The stars seemed aligned, A spark in the night, A treasure to find. Was it skill, was it fate, Or a whisper of chance? A line drawn so straight, In life’s fleeting dance. A ball kissed the net, Like destiny’s call, A memory set, In the hearts of all. Luck—such a fragile thread, Strong yet unseen, It weaves where we tread, Through all that has been. A rabbit’s foot charm, Or a silent prayer, Protects us from harm, Or just lingers there. The lucky few rise, With fortune’s embrace, The rest close their eyes, Lost in the race. But what is luck, If not effort disguised? A wheel in the muck, That suddenly flies. A shot in the dark, That somehow finds flame, A whisper, a spark, That rewrites the game. The crowd cannot see The struggle before, The nights spent in plea, The sweat on the floor.