Gambit Aspire

There is this game for hope

For that platter of consciousness available to place resonance

The spark of expectation that feeling of depending on another human being

To be present, to desire to be present, that kernel of volition

That wisp of existence teetering in the brink of the universe

Determining the fated ekes of trial and consequence

One to want, to expel energy to create artistic investment

To forge the metal of skin emulsified like living vinegar and oil

Drizzled in flecks of minutes dampening the humility of hope

To see the mixture as possible, as an application of momentum

The caked isolation softens, grit and flour crust creaming into roux

That a being is able to relax into the farther side of planetary exploration

The darkness bleeds into lightness so that a soul can take the streams

Of night into the audacity of day that glaring origin-story sort of naked

To go boldly walking into haberdasheries and bistros

Adorning scalps and whetting palettes upon the moistened bud of worlds

To lick the act of being present with austere bodacious honesty

To believe that every moment holds a constant key to open the immortal portal

To simultaneous swallow and be swallowed in a ubiquitous maw

One is also jawbone and jawed, savored and savoring

Tasting the sweating butter of hope that this swirling Meuniere

Darkening in that space approaching but never tangent to burnt

Swirling golden secret garden blooming that beings could believe together

In the act of choosing, to say let us be here, let us do, let us goad fate

The knife’s edge, blade, trigger, at helm offering the apocalypse

If left to the click switch of alternative decision, the bloody perilousness

The dauntless eyes hope-glazed and resolute to be in direct contact

Pinnacle of human, of being alive, of choosing