every day you wake up as a card

picked at whim from a shuffled deck

and there's no magician to guess

which one it is today.

every suit is suspicious of every other :

the reds bleed the blacks into the dark

the hearts break when the diamonds shine

the clubs grumble as the spades dig

the aces alienate the numbers

and the numbers lynch the faces.

and no matter how much they tell you

that love is the magician, loving is magic

a trick of instant connection and intense attention

you know it's not true, you know love

is gradual resonance, a gathering of little moments

over time, but how are you going to play this game

when you don't know which cards you've been dealt.

~ ajay

23/8/2022