The Game’s Afoot

Laying awake in the shadows,

Wishing for sleep

Like a child wishes for Christmas

Yet being denied that treasure

As the swelling and pressure

Grasped and clawed away

At this senses

“Well that’s enough of this shit”,

He finally said out loud,

Wishing someone could hear

Except the silence of the dark

And the corners of the room…

But they heard

And welcomed him to

Come back and play

He rose and, once again

Those first steps

As a great, stone effigy,

Got to his feet and made his way

Down the creaking and seemingly eternal hall

Towards the solace of his chair

And the gentle greeting it wrapped him in

Every night when his mind raced

Like a windstorm on the desert

And his eyes burned behind them

Like they held a strange and secret fire.

He settled into the arms and seat of the chair,

Warm and womb-like

And, for once in what seemed an e eternity

In the waiting room of misery;

Felt his pain and constant pushing

Ah; the touch of Ease…

and he caught his breath at last,

Feeling the peace roll over him

Like a blanket on a night made of

Restless turmoil and bitter thoughts.

He reached to the left,

And found his beaten and worn copy

of his old friend,

“The adventures of Sherlock Holmes”

And found himself once again

Lifting the delicate cover,

Held together by packing tape and a dream,

And finding his favorite tale within its walls;

“The Reichenburg Fall”

He loved that tale and it’s lesson;

Because, even though his hero

Sacrificed himself to end a great evil,

The evil was vanquished.

And his loved ones were saved it’s wrath.

All it took was the courage to jump,

All it took was a moment to lock eyes with evil,

And all it took was a second’s courage

And then a push

and a last great burst of determination

And the darkness

ended not only it’s grasp of innocence

But far more importantly,

It ended its existence altogether

As he read he began to feel the chains

That had held him awake for so long,

Slip and he began to grow weary

And he felt the wings of blessed sleep

Begin to lift him away to dreams

And, for a time at least, the tranquility

That came with knowing his enemy

Could also be laid low

If he just held onto the belief and the image

That he would grasp the tyrant

And never let it hurt him or those he held dear

With its teeth and biting cruelty.

The wings, as strong as they were,

Could not lift him from his chair

And he found her didn’t want them to;

….he settled himself again back

Into the deep crevices of his chair,

His constant and ever faithful lover

And bowed his head, letting sleep

At last take it’s hold on him

And cover him in its coolness and salvation

…and Sherlock rested In his hands

While he smiled and dreamed of a fall

That had no fear within it;

Just a gentle pulling away

Riding the wings of hope

That always came to him in the night —-

A fall from the shore of hopelessness

and defeat but ending in

a final victory long since denied

The book refused to slip from his hand

While he slumbered, it became

a part of his body

Just as solid and connected to him

as his heart—

And held in its place with love saying

Gently to the ears of his soul:

“And so I was so alone and I owe you so much. Please, there’s just one more thing. One more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me….



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