It is his game
He and his cohorts
He and his pawns
It is a pure monkey chess
Not the one we play crisp and cross
Not the one we play with snake and ladder
Not the one we play with bows and arrows
Not the one we play with black and white
In the shades of grey and grey hounds
There exist a primordial hunter and a traveler
They took the game to the east
And traveled to the land of Ottoman
And lived by the sides of a cedar lattice
They could share their eyes with the stars
And they could be the beacon for the centuries to come and go
Years of molten lava and steel, they sunk the chess board
Monkeys persisted, yet the game went on to the twilight of the times
When you play a chord, music may come and go
A monkey’s chess and its surrogate soldiers
A monkey’s chess and its surreal bishops
A monkey’s chess and its snooping dragons
A monkey’s chess and its silver ministries
A monkey’s chess and its golden temples
Lifeless game persisted, yet life won and the game is lost
Good, bad and the glad ones, they survived this game of the gardens
