Golf: A Journey Within

A game of poles and holes, they say,
A dance of solitude, a silent play.
The white ball waits in patient grace,
You club, you drive, you set the pace.

And then what? You search, you find,
Retrace the steps you left behind.
Like life itself—so pure, so whole—
We strike and scatter the spotless soul.

We call it prowess, yet name it ‘Handicap,’
A paradox in the scorecard’s trap.
End of the game, the clubs retire,
The ball returns, the hands perspire.

And so we pause, reflect, inquire—
What do we seek? What do we drive?
Are we not aligning, deep inside,
With earth, with wind, with fire, with tide?

The Sun that guides, the breeze that bends,
The water’s edge, where fear transcends.
Beyond mere holes, beyond the poles,
A journey inward—seeking souls.

The fairways whisper, the greens implore,
Go deeper still, forevermore.