These courts laden with sand

As all things must end, so shall this too
and never did I believe that I would want it so much-
to be over this culmination of emotionally challenging,
of unusually disturbing mediocrity we call a game.
Alas the divine intervention of the seasons is upon us
and I am beyond grateful for this commencement.
The degrees we receive stand not for our abilities
but lacks thereof, and I know just what each of us stands to receive.
Know that not a word on these pages is beautiful;
it all will hurt, myself included
but the damage has already been done all that we have left
is to see it written out, black and white- these cold, hard
words that I hold so dear, like traitors taunting my eyes
from these certificates I am certain we deserve…
our sins drawn out before our eyes to convict our hearts
so that we may adjust our ways for the next turn of the seasons.
All should, and must, be different
if we intend to advance to higher levels of intensity
for none of this is as much of a game
as we perceive it to be,
but upon these courts we treat it just so.


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