Tired of moves

The chessboard of his day

looms like a unbearable wasteland

in front of him this morning.

No matter what moves he makes

nor what piece he moves,

it will end with his King toppled.

“Why move at all”, he thinks.

“Why not just stand still and let the pieces move themselves?”

So…he withdraws from his own game.

,,,and just lets life and it’s pieces move around him.

“Let’s just see what topples me today?”, he says to himself

because no one else is there to say it to….

“Will it be, being alone?, misplaced anger,

past choices, being unloved….mistakes I still pay for?”

Whatever it will be, he resigns himself

to keep the count of the falling,

and failing,

pieces of his life as they go.

Other hands, you see, move the pieces now ; hands not his own–

As the game of another day of life begins

and he sees the day unfold

He sees the pawns he uses that now use him back,

He sees the Knight who once charged but now is impotent,

He sees the Bishop, high and pious, now doubting his calling,

He sees the Rook, he himself, locked in the corner, unmoving,

and, He sees the Queen and King,

Long since passed but still in his heart..not having lived

to see him do much with his life.

So the game begins,

and he sits in the futile corner,

And waits to see

what will bring about the Checkmate

and the night.

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