This Single Round
These black and white squares collide in front of me
dividing out this atlas of the worldly game board…
I see my pieces standing in lines, properly placed out,
standing at attention and realise the fraudulency of it.
There is no game of chance, it’s already been planned.
To strategise and visualise these plays forward, in a line.
To what end, I wonder now. What function does this
service when I can feel the fickle hand of fate reaching
inside this pitch to meddle in the affairs of all the weak?
The charade of free will shakes its warning fists at me,
dares against divulgence of secrets meant not for ears
of mortal brethren drawing out their own battle plans.
One chance only in this armour, yet no chance is this;
no chances truly subsist, were all play analysed and as
readily understandable by all with this distinction I am
carrying into the light at the edge of my own front line.
I fell for this ruse, as did all these other tiny paper dolls
and somewhere outside of this staged arena stands a
crowd of laughing stagehands holding all of the ropes.
Soon I shall feel this noose of time as the gaffers take
up all the slack they’d once thought to lend out to me.
We are all fools upon this ship and shall we fall prey to
treacherous storm waves as they throw us into the soil.
---phoenix
5/30-1/2008
Any copying/reproduction/distribution of this writing, in whole or in part, without express permission from the author is strictly prohibited. ©SaerenPhoenix 2008(Please contact the author with questions.)
These black and white squares collide in front of me
dividing out this atlas of the worldly game board…
I see my pieces standing in lines, properly placed out,
standing at attention and realise the fraudulency of it.
There is no game of chance, it’s already been planned.
To strategise and visualise these plays forward, in a line.
To what end, I wonder now. What function does this
service when I can feel the fickle hand of fate reaching
inside this pitch to meddle in the affairs of all the weak?
The charade of free will shakes its warning fists at me,
dares against divulgence of secrets meant not for ears
of mortal brethren drawing out their own battle plans.
One chance only in this armour, yet no chance is this;
no chances truly subsist, were all play analysed and as
readily understandable by all with this distinction I am
carrying into the light at the edge of my own front line.
I fell for this ruse, as did all these other tiny paper dolls
and somewhere outside of this staged arena stands a
crowd of laughing stagehands holding all of the ropes.
Soon I shall feel this noose of time as the gaffers take
up all the slack they’d once thought to lend out to me.
We are all fools upon this ship and shall we fall prey to
treacherous storm waves as they throw us into the soil.
---phoenix
5/30-1/2008
Any copying/reproduction/distribution of this writing, in whole or in part, without express permission from the author is strictly prohibited. ©SaerenPhoenix 2008(Please contact the author with questions.)
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