Where is it?
That which all search for?
That which few find?
That which borders the earth?
How did it be?
Whence came its time?
Where does it go?
Which has its life?
Can there be a stop?
Was there not a start?
Does it virtue keep?
With what does it stay?
The time has come once more
The moment where all is released
When we stand on the precipice of our defeat
The last threshold is crossed
The pieces fall into their ranks
The game reaches its pinnacle
Strategically we manoeuvre them to our advantage
Noting each loss as a statistic
Regardless we press on
Continuing towards our inevitable fate
We stand and watch others do the same
Making the same irreparable mistakes
Definitive actions force our hands
Planning is thwarted by mere chance
A novice breaks in and destroys the whole balance
All ends up black for the self in the end