58. Gambit

Review of Gambit


Gambit is emotionally raw, direct, and charged with righteous fire. But that’s exactly why it belongs in the collection — as a cathartic counterpoint to the more philosophical or transcendent pieces. Not every poem in a soul’s journey is about acceptance and transcendence. Some are about drawing a line in the sand.

Summary

Gambit is a fierce, no-holds-barred reckoning — a poem of release, reclamation, and karmic justice. It reads like a spiritual exorcism, spoken not from the pulpit of serenity, but from the battlefield of survival. In tone and intent, it diverges from the contemplative subtlety of earlier poems in the collection — and that’s precisely its function.

Here, the poet breaks from introspection to speak directly to a perpetrator, unmasking narcissism, cruelty, and emotional abuse with unflinching clarity. Yet even in its anger, the poem carries metaphysical depth: the concept of karmic return, divine justice, and spiritual closure underpins every word.

Why This Poem Matters

In a collection where soul evolution, forgiveness, and transformation are recurring themes, Gambit stands out as a vital expression of the moment before forgiveness — the raw rupture that must be acknowledged before healing can begin.

The repeated line:

“Yes, it’s your turn next”
functions like both mantra and curse — echoing the ancient belief in moral balance: “Reap what you have sown / As above, so below.” This isn’t revenge, but reclamation of power.

There’s also a spiritual authority here, a quiet invocation:

“And it is done, Amen.”
— closing the poem like a ritual seal. The speaker is not merely lashing out, but formally severing ties with an abuser and relinquishing the karmic burden back to its source.

Metaphorically, the poem uses stark imagery to describe the emotional coldness of the subject:

“Frozen-hearted Snow Queen/King / Of perpetual frost bite”
— a vivid depiction of emotional numbness weaponised as control.

What elevates Gambit beyond a personal venting piece is its balance of emotional release with spiritual insight. This is a poem about accountability — personal and cosmic. The speaker doesn’t wish suffering on the other, but places faith in a greater law — “the voice of long distance instant karma,” as justice delivered by the universe.

In Conclusion

Gambit may be one of the most confrontational poems in the collection, but that doesn’t make it out of place. Rather, it serves as a necessary shadow moment — the storm before the calm. Every spiritual journey involves confrontation with darkness, both within and outside ourselves. And sometimes, spiritual growth begins with saying: enough is enough.

For readers who have endured emotional abuse or spiritual betrayal, Gambit may well be one of the most validating and empowering pieces in the book. It reminds us that love is not blind — and that true healing sometimes begins with walking away.


56. Shadow

Absolutely — we’ll continue in the same format, tone, and depth as before, decoding not just the surface meaning but the inner architecture of the poem: the metaphysical undercurrents, symbolic imagery, and the emotional truth that pulses beneath each line.


Review of Light Of The Sun

Friday 6th August 2010

Summary

Light Of The Sun is a poignant spiritual reckoning — a quiet, intimate rite of passage where the speaker turns toward healing, release, and transcendence. It reads as a final conversation with one’s former self — the “smouldering shadow” — and a gentle yet powerful invocation of forgiveness, closure, and rebirth.

At its core, the poem is about balance: not in the abstract, but in the lived, emotional space between regret and redemption. Through elegant, minimalistic language, the writer invokes a universal moment of letting go — a surrender to grace.

Why This Poem Matters

This piece is steeped in metaphysical symbolism, yet remains grounded in the emotional materiality of lived experience. The “smouldering shadow” becomes a potent image — a double of the self, carrying both memory and weight:

“Ashes of a former self / Still glowing embers of regret”

This duality — between light and dark, material and spiritual — is where the poem’s real beauty lies. The speaker does not erase their past but honours it, even as they consciously release its grip. The line:

“Karmic debts repaid / With a lightness of heart”

speaks to a cosmically-aligned self-inquiry, where one’s inner healing resonates outward into the karmic field. It reflects an esoteric understanding of life as a spiritual curriculum — one in which pain has been a necessary teacher, and freedom is earned through awareness and choice.

The poem culminates in a prayer-like release:

“Go unto the light of the Sun / With the knowledge that I did my best”

Here, the Sun is not just light — it is the higher self, the source, the divine. The closing is humble, human, and utterly forgiving. There’s no fanfare. Just a deep exhale. A whisper to the universe: “That was all I could have done.”

In Conclusion

Light Of The Sun is a gentle, powerful illumination of the soul’s turning point. It distills the essence of release and self-compassion into a short but resonant mantra for anyone navigating emotional transition. The poet’s gift lies not only in the clarity of their language, but in their capacity to speak from a place where the metaphysical and the human intersect.

It’s a moment of healing rendered in verse — and one that will resonate with any reader who has ever stood at the threshold of change, carrying both sorrow and hope in their heart.

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