Elegy for a Final Boss
In celebration of video games from the 2000s
I love a challenging Final Boss High difficulty means high reward But all my strategies cease When you, my beloved Final Boss, dies I’ve killed you, yes — And then, what am I left with? What am I left with? “Don’t die now,” I whisper, ”It’s been too fun” “Thank you for playing,” they callously applaud “What’s next?” my brain blindly gropes
In the bardo world Between your bodily death, and your soul-flight You lie down, on a picnic mat, with all the other Final Bosses From all the other great video-games I see you sipping Ethiopian coffee with them And they pass you a plate of steaming-hot nasi lemak “That was fun,” I hear you say to them
I am glad I am glad you can rest now It’s your turn to play Overcome your own chosen challenges High-difficulty, high-reward Don’t worry about me I’m writing a poem In memory of our Fun Battle
Thank you for playing with me