• ENDGAME

    The whole world's a stage? And the people, merely players?
    No, this can't be all there is to the course of human life.
    A play, staged, scripted, to be watched without control?
    No, the world is a board, to a game played on many layers.
    Each move we make, action we take, against our daily strife,
    Is one more step toward the endgame, to the ultimate goal.

    But, then, who's to say we are the players of this game?
    We don't plan the moves we make, we don't have a strategy.
    Could we be the pieces, the pawns and rooks and knights?
    The bishops, queens, and kings? None of us quite the same,
    But all here for the purpose of defeating a common enemy?
    Or are we our own enemy, and it is ourselves we blindly fight?

    And who are we fighting for, which of the ageless immortals?
    Whose hand moves us to the next step on our path uncertain?
    Whose side are we on, and on which side should we have been?
    Good and Evil, watching the board, touching the individuals,
    Pulling the strings of the puppets from behind the curtain,
    Shaping our future, planning their next approach, unseen.

    Deadlocked in this game, played since the oldest of ages,
    Is the game "all or nothing", or is this only just one in a set?
    And in the end, will the winner decide on humanity's fate?
    If lives, spent casually, advance the game to its next stages,
    And the players offer this sacrifice without feeling any regret,
    Does it really matter who finally gets to say, 'Check Mate'?