End Game

Who are you?

Do you know, am I asking the wrong question?

What is it you want?

Why is it that I sense some hesitation?

The sediment settles in waters opaque with blood.

The battle is over, who has won?

is there a winner in a game of such wit

When a board's master is neither integritous or fit.

The furvor and pestilence over but a quarry of paint.

Its colors bright as the sun.

The colors of the hunter were inside out.

Those hidden, or false, were none.

But the blood, shed slowly, accompanied no pain or frown,

And the sediment always returns to its depths.

And although the hunter's adorned with the paint of a clown

The board unveils a match of sudden death.

For those who know not themselves, nor the face of their challenger,

Success shall never be known.

The goal of a player is to fulfill their own dreamer,

But a master's Courage and Truth are much greater, alone.


15 May, 2001  

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