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