...five... six...
seven.
seven steps away from being with love.
it sounds simple, right?
like walking parallel to the DeeJay booth,
lifting left, then right foot with gravity-defying moves,
bringing the future ever closer,
is something done everyday!
well... okay it is.
the game is complexed,
but the objective is simple...
"capture the Queen."
there she was,
hips moving as though she were the beat.
playing composer to the DJ's orchestra.
the music chases her tempo,
as she plays hard to get.
the symphony slows down,
slows, as though succumbing to the exhaustive pace it was forced to maintain.
she, maestro, Queen, curtsey's
and i, like any audience, mentally
applauded her work.
she slightly, subtly,
gave my glance toward her recognition.
i, absorbed her faint smile,
as though this Queen were the sunshine,
and i, just a frostbitten Alaskan tourist,
in need of her warmth for survival.
her wordless sign of acknowledgement
inspired me to move closer.
but i had to move with a sense of purpose.
I prepared my first move.
It was a simple one, really,
the Pawns are the easiest to escape.
they are great in numbers, and
have the ability to attack, but
are merely a filter used to weed out
unqualified challengers.
Their "easiness" can seduce some,
but those who truly seek to gain the Queens
favor,
are not swayed.
Gyration, vibrations, and temptations abound,
I side-step them all, in the name of Love.
KNight approaches.
Its odd movements make it formidable,
I must not take it for granted,
for it may creep up on me,
and destroy my entire effort.
I move forward steadfastly.
All the while,
The Queen has taken up residence,
amongst opulence.
She sees all, and all see her.
As attackers attempt to mount,
she, without effort thwarts their advances.
I remain enamored,
I remain in amor,
I remain armored.
Next,
Both Rook and Bishop attempt to redirect me,
entrap me in conversation,
and the consumation of free spirits, respectively.
i decline to partake in petty discussion,
and refuse to ingest that which i am.
free.
spirit.
i guide myself as to avoid Bishops angle of attack,
and Rooks straight up and down candor, with a...
"...step, step, side to side..."
all foes have been averted,
i have come within paces of my goal,
of my gold,
my precious object of desire.
the orchestra once again attempts to
overcome their overbearing master,
unsuccessfully.
she repeatedly berates them for their insolence,
they wrap notes around her,
as though to tenderly embrace her,
and then kneel at her feet, in submission.
through strategic positioning,
i have arranged my ranks,
so as to force her in my direction.
i, unlike the DeeJay, have succeeded in my endeavor.
Queen, black, moves.
King, white, touches Queens arm,
Queen beams.
Game...
I move in closer,
in an attempt to whisper words of love,
words of peace and of war,
all which celebrate at different points on the spectrum,
a spectrum that defines what i would do,
would do to protect you.
You my Queen.
that is what i intended to say...
seven steps to Queen, black,
I had not accounted for King, black.
I lose.
Click!!!...
CheckMate.
