Chess

Stars heaved and thrown wildly across the dark.
Don't equal It with unknown hands scaled something
heavenly; playing chess with our blood, the part.

The board, It's chess board, the grandest arena
but instead of white and black tiles,
made from the marble of some dead civilization,
it's living, bleeding, a pattern of skin and sinew.
That is it's playing field. The roles are the same
unfortunately, our roles are the same, we are etched
in them like the knights, kings, queens, bishops
castles, and pawns. Carved out our
bones like the ivory on the board glistening, the first move,
we're all matters of chess you and I.
It moves us vertically, horizontally, backwards,
forwards, right, left, up, down, diagonally,
and perpetually.
It's opponent the only true opponent
a darker version of itself pulled back behind
matter and dark matching it's maneuvers.
Piece to piece, thunder to thunder, blood to blood.
Outcomes are jobs, spouses, life, death,
and life. All the visceral things.
Made into pieces of strategy,
hoping to forge some victory in a splitting
bout of primal and original forces.
The victory is not an outcome,
simply bragging rights,
for one force to laugh at another.

Stars heaved and thrown wildly across the dark.
Do not equal It with unknown hands scaled something
heavenly; playing chess with our blood, the part