To the King Across My Chessboard

I'm standing on this cloud
Because this book belongs to you
It's filled with all the thoughts and promises
I made before I knew

Before you told me there's a woman
Who threads fire through her hair
Whose iceberg eyes are made from stars
You forged in holiness and prayer

And if the bishops on this chessboard
Are right and speak the truth
Then I'm off to dwell in darkness
I'm not leaving her for you

But I'm quite sure you folded glory
In the forests of her soul
The same way you painted fire
In men whose eyes are made of coal

So I'm standing on this cloud
Because this writing is not mine
And while I'll miss your starry buildings
I believe her heart's a sign
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4 thoughts on “To the King Across My Chessboard

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