The Ball of Life

The ball of life is big.
Now,
This big ball,
Though not small,
Might just stall,
Make you fall.
So, you crawl,
Aching badly.
Eyes turn madly
To the ball
And you squall,
Curse like thunder
At the blunder,
Want to sunder,
Squeeze the culprit.
You got culled, grit
Your white teeth.
Deep beneath
Boils the wrath
Of your path
Which comes out.
So, you shout
"You can stick it!"
At the ball.
Then you kick it
With your all
And breathe out while watching how it flies.
You kicked it hard. It does not stop to rise
Well before, within the empty skies,
It disappears before your very eyes.
You just wait there and to your surprise
It does not come back and you realise
That it might just not have been so wise
To kick it to begin with, too.
You ask yourself what you could do
To get your ball back. `Cause it's true:
You need it after all, just to
Keep everything alive, in view
And rolling. Then it comes, hits you
With all its force and might,
Descends from soaring height
Back onto you with quite
A bang and to incite
Your will to push and fight
Not the ball.
You recall
Who's the foe.
And you know
That the ball
Did not stall
Without cause!
So, you pause.
And you think.
And you link
In your head
Thread to thread
`Til you see:
That's the key
To the riddle.
In the middle
Of your road
Lies a stone
Which was prone
To have slowed
Your big ball,
Made it stall.
But there's more.
You explore
Just from where
It got there
In your way.
Who could say?
Your thoughts stray
And you pray
For you may
Be the one
Having thrown
Just for fun
This very stone...