I hate that you know your cards so well, left with not more than to sit and dwell... on the woes and the pains that makes the inflammation swell and the secrets you choose to no longer tell. I hate that you know your cards so well, the metagame structure, the moves and spells. Stories from NPCs, the canon and plays, leaving you locked into the old ways.  Playing tapped out hands, old janky tricks... with only a table flip the  only advisable fix.

I hate that you knew your cards so well...
... dedicated to a gamer who passed away far too early, who inspires me on the regular. I see you, trickster, and I miss you.

Maybe the zombie apocalypse has been here for a long time, people walking around with masks, dead in the eyes, when rewards come from a childlike spark in the soul, the wilingess to play and experiment while still showing up, whole.

I've seen people ask if it's a ****** attraction to pans, but really, it means it doesn't matter what's in the pan, but if you know how to cook with it.

The pan is but a vessel to operate divine nourishment through to human form.

Like a gem, multifaceted, chryst-all-eyes'd.

And kaleidoscopic like a funhouse mirror, sometimes we have the illusion of separation and when some look at other aspects it may seem upside down, skewed, distorted or wonky, but it's not our face to wash. And sometimes animals attack the mirror when they don't yet recognize their own reflection in the looking glass.

I would walk away from you a thousand times,
To perpetually give the opportunity
To experience, to see through with true eyes.
Find perspective, grow wise,
I refuse to be used for sins or supposed salvations,
Maybe we both deserved better machinations.
To find and be found by true kin
To secure the most amazing win.

The secret of birds, bees, fish and trees.
Enough space to join and leave,

To dance, pivot and spin.
To know where self ends, and others begin,

To be allowed to exist, to be
To appreciate dynamics in harmony,

The flock, the school, the group and way,
Permission to deviate but still be okay.

To speed up or slow down,
The shyness of the crown,

Oh, there is in nature to be seen,
For in said glory, we can glean.

How many shortcuts are you gonna take  before you realize you're going the wrong way?
Cutting corners to a destination where it's best not to stay.