Chess

-I find myself at moments certain of my next move. Staring at that lowly pawn, I see where it can move and then where it should-where I should, but then comes the wave of sentiment and the emotions confuse me. I hold on to that spot on the board that spot which has taken me twenty some odd years to get to. I lose certainty. It leaves, along with my defenses. What is my next move?
The pathways of life, have wrought little in my life thus far. Still i find myself so easily captivated at the entrance to each pathway. It is in fact a delaying of my fortune I presume, since there is no way in this meandering journey of life, to discover what lies at the end of each path, until one has travelled it. I stop and I stare at each entrance and wonder what the possibilities that ly before me may be. I’m entertained by them and have little to show for the passing of time in my amusement. I hide behind words and not even they can save me. It is in the walking. In each new step lies a discovery. I walk too slow perhaps.
There was a time, when though I was often not with a smile, I believed so fervently in my dream and my ability to reach it, that I lived looking forward to it. There was no doubt im my mind that I would have the desires of the material world at my beckoning. I think I’ve come to a place where I would much rather reach understanding, but still the world of comforts seduces me. Perhaps this is why I should, across the world travel and find some understanding of what, the whole consists.
Even now, I struggle with this decision, though I have nearly made up my mind and indeed speak as if I have. Am I fleeing possibility, or am I creating it?
In all games there is a strategy, except fot that game which is a journey.