Game Over With my friend P. Modernity, We played a game of strategy. Sipping our hot cups of coffee, We spoke over a game of chess. Most of our chat was mere bs, But then the game turned serious When my friend made a move untoward: His bishop straight across the board To nab my queen. I’d nearly roared In disapproval when he set My mighty monarch garbed in jet Among the dead. Though quite upset, I calmed myself enough to say, “Don’t you know you can’t move that way?” “Well,” he said, “that’s the way I play.” He smiled, eyes twinkling with delight. “But,” I exclaimed, “It isn’t right,” As I tried to remain polite. “Though my style might not work for you, I believe that for me it’s true.” For some time I tried to argue, Yet I discerned I could not win With one who did not believe in Higher notions of truth or sin. So, I chose the only right answer As all my thoughts became a blur, I flipped our chessboard over And instantly felt much better When pieces crashed across the floor. My friend glared at me and loudly swore, “What did you f-ing do that for?” “Friend, I’ve chosen to play by your Rules—the game with rules unwritten.” I stood after I had spoken, And added: “Oh, by the way, I’ve won.” I left. Now that the night had begun I looked to enjoy a bit more fun! At a Glacier Through mountains sloping to the sea, The water carves its twisting trail. Our mighty ship is but a flea Seen side-by-side against a whale In the perspective of this scene; Yet, to God, what does all this mean? Through liquid fields, green and milky, Where graze the many blue-white herds— Ice littered far as eye can see, These glacial islands soar like birds. Though the air bites us crisp and clean, To God Himself, what does this mean? We reach the glacier, standing there Flowing between the sloping rocks— A river frozen in mid-air! It seems to birth the icy flocks, Sending its children to the green; Yet, to God, what does all this mean? This frozen march has been the same, From time of man to long before. Though people use a different name, The cycle rules for evermore. Yet for the God who crafts the scene, What should we tiny humans mean? When and How and Why When and how and why crash like meteors In the night. Questions with no clear answers Flash as prodigies to our inward eye, All our Materialist thoughts defy. We try to reason but our thinking slurs. Here comprehension of the system blurs, Since we see effects but not what conjures. We don’t decode the cipher in the sky, When and how and why. The secret may shine upon our altars, Or lie cloistered in the darkest arbors; Though the meaning we will not verify, Truth we can, most certain, clarify, If we will heed when the spirit answers When and how and why. Featured Images: "Hereford Chess Club" by Thomas Leeming. Ron L. Hodges is a long-time English teacher, having taught at Oxford Academy in Cypress, California, for the past ten years. About a year ago he started writing poetry, and has had three poems published so far in Ancient Paths Literary Magazine. He lives in Orange County, California with his wife and two sons.