Checkmate

Protecting my queen, I build my walls,

my towers tall, my knights poised to strike—

all for the vain, illusory tale

that my preferences must prevail.

With strategy in hand, I know how it ends.

Each move is calculated,

each desire defended.

But the board is limiting,

my kingdom shrinks.

To live for the queen is to play not to lose.

And the journey is lost before it begins.

But the moment I appreciate every position,

the material falls where it may.

The pawns, no more a means to an end,

And the queen drops all of her weight. 

Porcelain pieces step in sequence, 

as rivers flow to the sea. 

Black and white spaces, no longer separated,

And the edges no longer a wall. 

To play with life is to enjoy the game

What happens does not reign supreme;

If one can appreciate everything

Then karma is no longer their king

Nothing matters, but every move is honored.

Each square, sacred.

Each move, a gift.

Each check, a chance to notice.

To win is to lose the need to win.

The master trades in his title for Master,

the king trades in his throne for a home,

and surrenders his pieces to advance.

The sacrifice of the queen

is the liberation of the King. 

The queen falls.

And with her, the walls.

If I drop my preferences, I win.

Checkmate.