Waltzing into the blanket of dusk. A pawn escaping across the checkered board, Out and inwards to the green grassed yard. A sleeting figure, past-and-future, Gone the way of the fearless noble rook. Down-acrossed squares of black and white. Into the field of endless battle.
This game we play, has become a tournament. White against black, two players locked; Locked in a battle of constant wits. Who shall win? The noble too afraid to capture the evil queen or, The darkness plauging the board.