Final Gambit [Poem]

Final Gambit - A Poem by Tom Shaw

High above, on checkerboard skies,
they play us like a game of chess,
fantasising and strategising
on how to impose their progress.
Hovering over our territory,
with suspense so tense and agonising,
they cannot help but flaunt their wealth
and so the silver spray then flies.

Down below the checkerboard skies,
pawns work to make this fate accepted.
They say the air of their heir isn’t toxic,
and take out pieces whose voices objected.
The battle line clouds are now a new normal,
while the weapons of our lungs become hypoxic.
A checkmate draws that little bit closer,
hidden in a silver spray of lies.

Just beyond the checkerboard skies,
there sees the beginning of a new game,
not one waged in clouds of deception,
for it’s clear that playbook needed rejection.
The seeding there happens not in the sky,
but instead in the soil, where there's no sci-fi
high-crime comply-or-die nonsense -
only water and love to disperse.
And as nature grows us the beanstalk,
we'll rise above the doom-and-gloom talk,
above the chemtrails laid like tripwires,
to reach the castle of the fear suppliers.
And while they're busy dining on hubris,
we return stolen gold to the fruitless.

Sure, when they find out, there'll be a storm,
but in their final gambit we'll be sure,
that while they'll try to play out their chess,
we will be solving a puzzle instead.

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Music - (Ambient) Deep Sky - Kirk Osamayo
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It is clear that something is afoot in our skies, even if we cannot always agree on why, how, and to what extent. The implications of implementing weather modification without proper consent of the people subject to its impacts is absolutely worth discussing.

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