The Game of Kings

Both Monarchs, one white, one black
Leading their men to war.
The game starts, White steps forward
Signalling a start to the mind battle ahead.

Both players advancing, one piece at a time,
Relishing in the tense atmosphere
In which the game unfolds.
A war so pure yet filled with tragedy
That brings life to the pieces on the board.

The elegant contour of each soldier
Standing proud to the very end.
Each piece holds the life of a human
And mine is within that of the black Queen
Victorious and confident even through loss.

“Tap”. The black King moves forward
placing itself next to the white Emperor.
Opposing player gasps, and I savour
in the look of horror in my opponent’s eyes.
Ah...The satisfaction brewing inside me.

For it doesn’t matter if you don’t win
As long as your soul is within the game
And your passion for it is significant,
It is only then that you are the true
Winner of the Game of kings.