Each piece holds an inherited square on the board, lining up in files and standing in rows and ranks, signatories of tall, standing hierarchies in royal gear and armoured suits, protecting the towers of the rooks. It's all in the gameplay of the win and the lose.
We are a confused globe, having lost the torch of the enlightened lead from the light. The mentalist, protagonist, and criminologist in partnerships against the humanist. Fellow men, women and child crossing over matters that matter, against all tides, worldwide, creating chaos in all minds and disturbing peace talks that speak lies.
Hey guys, let's stop and look across from side to side. Some win while they remain seated side by side. Others lose as they get chopped, chipped, and dragged away, martyred, beaten and called a dead bat off the board.
How do we combat the onslaught of life and living in the throes of harsh realities?
A day at a time. The past is history, the future is a mystery, this is a gift, thus it is called THE PRESENT.
The few guarantees we have are the time on the fluctuating rollercoaster of the graph as evidence of life and living, time between the two certainties of birth and death. The journey of the escapades matter, as we have been created as matter to matter. We are the illusions of the realities in the struggles of fate and destiny.
Above us, below us, around us, inside us, outside us — we are His creation, of what matters in the layers of the auric matter.
When clay was created, man created idols, notwithstanding the fact that man is made of clay. At a basic pottery class, I wheeled the clay. It rolled away and slipped into what it chose to be. The texture was soft and smooth and I was not able to control it. My mind ran into praises of the super Clay Master, in every nook and cranny, with a perfect curve and whirl, shaped to fit the mould. Are we, each one, His masterpiece?
Be it dad, mum, gran, grandad, or child, the plan of ongoing procreation of the clay world shall always abide.
How do we combat the onslaught of life and living?
Perhaps we are each shaped by the Clay Master's hand to hold our different ranks in life, not as pawns fighting to win the game, but as servants standing side by side on the board of His making, trusting the hand of the true Master. His magnificence shall never be less than a breath of abide.
