This game, it is not a game.
But it is not war either,
No playing field or battle field
But rather something more.
Yes, it is neither of what
These two impositions bring,
Yet there is a possibility
Between two other things.
In my right hand lies
The happier of the two,
For in this hand there's
No shade of black or blue.
In this hand people embrace
Amongst the fingers tightly curled.
They unite in mutual bliss,
Ready and eager to conquer the world.
But in my left rests
The choice far more dull,
For between the two players
Exists a tantalizing lull.
One creates a path leaving
The other no choice but to follow,
While the latter full of passion
Chases the former who is hollow.
Neither option puts on display
Any fashion of war or sport,
Either unison of players or
Polar opposition of divisive sort,
In which one wins automatic.
No competition to report.
Instead it is a gamble
Into which one unsurely stumbles,
Uncertainty does not cease
Until it solidifies or crumbles.
yes.
ReplyDeleteas contrasting as they are, stanzas 4 and 6 are my favorites. the image of embrace in the former and concept of hollow in the latter are particularly strong. bueno, bueno