By: Connar H.

Art has helped me reflect on myself and recognize the delusions from reality and the blurry line in between. This is a poem describing life as a chess game, and how chess is described as life.

3rd · Adult Writing (2025)

The battle lines are drawn. Kings, queens; Bishops, Knights; Rooks, pawns. We are just pieces on the board, played by two. Each is a Lord; one lies, the other tells it true. Master’s will over ours, but we each have our own uses and powers. I’d rather be used than removed, but I pray I’m not left idle too long. No truce to be approved; one must be right, one must be wrong. Spaces of darkness and spaces of light by which we are bound, making up the renowned battleground. Pieces of darkness and pieces of light make moves upon the same rules and grounds, taking others until on Master is crowned. Some pieces are confined to light or dark spaces, but most traverse both. Each piece is bound to their oath and what the other side brings. We can relate as far as our strings, we understand as far as we see, but we are what we be. How do we know our fate? The truth shines after the illusions played before our face. Sacrifices made all for the greater play. Defenses laid while pursuing the weaknesses in the other’s line. The strategies planned, just waiting on a sign.  Check…