Quadrants

Nothing is the same

Within a constant evolution

Even when the obvious

Overshadows the detail

A Dare

A very personnel fear

An urge to push away

I feel it say

You’re going to get hurt

You’re going to get hurt

Set a distance

Play it safe

And you won’t feel a thing

The Charade

Painted faces

All lines and shades

Where is the truth?

Behind this masquerade

A thought, a feeling

Fingers and strings

The truth is bound

To leave a sting

The Disciple

Within the Sin Bowl

Our misgivings burn

And the karmic dust

Will settle in turn

And from these ashes

A promise is made

That never again

Shall we be swayed

From the path we know

As just and right

For we are the flame

In the cold silent night

King

A master of perception

Writing lines between the lines

Observing, absorbing, filtering

Before drawing conclusions

Like blood from the vein

Precisely, timed, focused

The essence of the all

Taken

One step at a time

Bishop To Queen

Sisters of sorts

An evolution

Focused on the scars

Of a warrior’s mind

Touching what has healed

Embracing what has not

Over time

Pawn

A melancholic gaze

Caught in a cold embrace

And a face, so close

But just not close enough

There is beauty in this sadness

As this is how you feel

And it is real

When the warmth is not

The Longest Night

Possible answers

To unanswered questions

Pondered deep in to the night

As all the ghosts

From moments past

Taint the views

Of second sight

What is to come?

Already written?

The spirits whisper

Have no fear

For in the end

A life worth living

Cannot be shed

By a single tear

The Trick

Let loose

Like an arrow to the Sun

With an honest heart

And eyes wide open

Observing the tricks

Of systems and Man

He lived and learned and thrived

Until he lost his footing

Through the deceit of a girl

The Burn

Fire or water

One in the same

From the scars on the mountain

To the warmth of the flame