The Match
"The Match"
Time falls like a traitor
it smiles at you through mirrors
you see all faces surrounding you
other than your own
each a voice imprinted in your memories
a part of the Word's words,
remonstrations tumbling
through your voiceless throat,
they respond hitting the walls
leaving hollow hieroglyphs
promises that slip,
some self-righteous Umpire
calls the serve landing out of bounds
and doesn’t hesitate to record a fault;
through the backhand grip
your own thoughts
are ghost written volleys
that skim without hesitation
over the net
bouncing towards
the inexperienced experienced
their hearts,
hands, eyes, and lips
the memories are lost in unplugged sockets
still,
they take they’re hit
you smash it back
full hilt;
you think you are electric
time falls like a traitor
and everyone
in their own mind
one way or another
thinks they’re in the game
a winner,
even loser’s think
they’re winners in the end,
they take their hit;
love-all
just the same
and you are lit.
Candide Diderot. ‘25
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