You sad fool.
You drunken fool.
You make me melancholic.
This optimisim of yours;
I  wonder how you will survive.

This world is voracious.
It is a dragon, which does not speak
my dear boy.
Hungry.

And all of of it’s young
Are the greatest woman
In this world.
And only a few men.
They are the children of this dragon, which does not speak.
They speak for it.
If you listen.

I met one of her children.
Her eyes were made of Tsavorite.
Her tongue: of mercury.
She flapped her wings.
And I was a her slave.

She looked at me with Vulcan eyes.
That created something within me.
A heart.
That she sought to destroy.

I was her pawn.
Her chess piece.
But she favoured me.
For I had crossed the board.
Through gambits and feasts
To become the queen.

But I was only a piece.
And I thought I knew it at the time.
That the dragon
At any time
Would melt me
Be it glass or wood.
I was always under her command.

But she favoured me.
I was, for her power.

If only
Stepping off the board
Meant
I would not be glass
I would not be wood.

I would be of scales
And flesh.

For her
Which I am
(but not with her)

I will be the queen amongst the pawns
The knights
The bishop
The rook
And the king.

But a chess piece
To the dragon.

So maybe I need to sacrifice myself
Be a gambit
And fall.

Maybe I will transform
As I did from a pawn
To a queen.

Then maybe
I will be more than just a piece.
I will be a dragon.
And I will be hers
And she will be mine.

And the game will be over.
And we can shake hands.
For we know that the beginning
Was only
“Pawn to 4E.”

Checkmate.