Thursday 7 May 2009


On chequered squares of space and time,
Dark shadows dance a game of mime;
To slay the Self is their cryptic aim;
By tricks of mind to heights they climb.

There reigns a King and Black’s his name,
A strong ego is his claim to fame,
This cosmic game he’s made to play
Helped by his dark deluding Dame.

False Bishops at his feet do pray,
Marauding Knights have feet of clay,
A pride of puppet Pawns at rest,
His army’s poised in gaunt array.

The Lord of Light is truly blest,
The White Goddess, his Queen, no less;
With Castled Sages on each side,
He waits to play this celestial jest.

His Knights, stately stallions ride,
Maintaining righteous order, wide.
In silence, his rooks then meditate,
Enslaved to dreams of seek and hide.

Self wants Ego bound, checkmate;
The villain fights to thwart his fate,
And slay his foe himself, instead;
We watch their struggle, taut and great.

By laws of fate the rules are led,
The end’s perceived, foreseen ahead;
To wage this war in awesome glory,
‘Till Black or White resigns, and drops dead.

After ages, growing grey and hoary,
Both lie boxed, the game was gory;
When ‘Who’ made this game is ready,
Battle starts again; another story!

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