Is it all a game of cards,

Or just this moment in time?

It’s so hard to move forward

Without crossing some thin line.

Everything must fall in order,

Slotted into just one place—

Matching one after the other,

A quiet game of grace.

At times the board lies frozen still,

No moves to make, no signs to trust.

But one small shift, one quiet will,

Can stir the cards from dust.

No longer solitary, no longer alone—

Two minds now intertwine.

Trying to rebuild, to rehone,

Hearts meet in tender time.

Not kings or queens by any means,

Yet here they gently reside,

Agreeing to disagree, it seems,

With nothing left to hide.

When patterns fail and plans collapse,

We gather cards and start anew.

A shuffle hums like whispered maps,

Pointing paths we never knew.

In the end, the cards will fall

Like memories off a shelf.

Life finds its rhythm, after all—

A quiet cue: trust in self.