Luring the Opponent With an Illusion

I have studied you.

The way you pause

before you speak.

The things you reach for

when you are nervous.

The smile that means nothing

and the one that means everything —

I know the difference.

I place my words

like seeds on a board.

Careful.

Deliberate.

Watching your eyes

for the frown

that tells me

I have made a good move.

You think you are playing too.

That is the point.

I have read the books.

I know what the silence means,

what the distance means,

what it means when you laugh

at the wrong time.

I have mapped you

without your permission

and filed it somewhere

you will never find.

And yet —

form does not differ from emptiness.

Emptiness does not differ from form.

All this knowing.

All this careful architecture

of influence and understanding —

and I still cannot hold

a single thing

that doesn’t want to be held.

The opponent I cannot read

is myself.

I set the board.

I place the pieces.

I watch you fall

into the move I planned

three steps ago.

And still —

no fear exists.

No victory either.

Just the board.

Just the seeds.

Just the quiet revelation

that control

was always the illusion

I was luring myself with.

Adeyemi Olajumoke Ayomide

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Adeyemi Olajumoke A. is a student of English Language who writes poetry, essays, and children's stories in between classes and everyday life. Finding inspiration in the ordinary, she is often in a quiet corner reading or writing. Her work explores themes of waiting, home, faith, and the quiet battles people carry within themselves. She is still figuring life out, and writing remains the way she makes sense of the journey.