Something

Something happened the other night - I'm not sure what.
Accidents happened and I knew better, yet I played along.
It was what I wanted after all.
What you wanted I'm not so sure.
I know what you say, I've heard it so many times.
Each time it seems more of an excuse, more protective of you and him.

Is it a game? We say it is.
That's how it started - a slip of tongue gave birth to a new game.
How excited they were by this new game; they thought it cute.
They pushed and pulled at us hoping we'd castle, capture and checkmate.
Absorbed as we were, we didn't notice the extra players.
Alas the night ended and so did the game.

That could have been the end but reaching across the distance it was born again.
It was different this time - was it just another round?
We knew the players now and could judge their moves.
Did that mean we could play better?
A newcomer had arrived, a name I'd heard whispered before.
Had he not been banished earlier?

You two had played together, more than just played.
His arrival hurt - had I not been your partner?
You said we could both stand at your side though my role might be smaller.
I think not - not in this game.
This is the Thunder Dome - two men enter, one man leaves.
I know better and withdraw, yet the game is not over.

I think I am out but a passing remark pulls me back in.
We finally draw lines on the battlefield, yet neither of us moves.
I know if I charge I risk losing forever. Does he too?
Instead we play a more discrete game.
Neither of us can determine the victor, our judge is one of us, yet above us.
Deceitful as it is, I whisper questions with thorny answers.

This time I have allies but do they really help?
Their approach is different, less subtle than mine.
They aren't afraid to say the truth but their bluntness may scare you away.
I don't want that to happen - too much will be lost by all.
I know my enemies and my allies but I don't know you.
How shall I move?

Sometimes I think it really is a game.
Who is leading who? a puppet master behind the curtain.
Usually that is my role, yet they say you play it now.
Sometimes I think I feel strings tugging.
Sometimes I think you're holding your own.
Maybe they're entangled.

There are so many players in this game.
They come and go everyday, usually just watching, but some dive in.
When you entered mine, I thought you a spectator.
Now I'm not sure if you're in the stands.
Sometimes I think we're grappling for a hold
Then your head turns and it's someone else.

There are so many plots and intricacies, each a scene within the whole.
We wander about as if window shopping, sometimes stopping for a closer look.
Few are regular in more than one scene.
To play just one requires dedication.
I know I have my own orbit, my own circle of circles.
Yet I keep feeling your tugs calling me back.

Maybe you don't mean to pull but I feel it anyway.
Maybe your tossing and turning at night is catching while you sleep.
I know you better though; you're not that restless.
How can you not have noticed? Everyone else has.
Dragging me around leaves such a wake, are tugs distracting you?
I hope not. Can I say I think not?

In vain I gave a push, and found the lever that moves the moon.
A mirror appeared and the sight of strings brought pause.
A moment later a twin appeared yet things weren't clear.
It was crystal, dangerously so, and they shattered.
Can we repair them? Is there enough left?
One must be willing to go two-thirds of the way and not stop.

Days, weeks, and months, eventually years pass by and we still play the game.
There is only one way to leave, yet one never truly leaves.
I can think of two words that describe this game.
Their meanings are different, though ideally the same.
They start the same but shouldn't end that way.
The players come and go but the game goes on and on.