The Great Battle

The players take their chosen stance and name their favoured pieces
They’re labelled clear as ‘good’ and ‘bad’, amongst the earthly species
Lightning strikes as kerchief falls, to spark the furious battle
And souls take up allotted parts, as herdsmen or as cattle
Hate and love then make their move, in hope of gaining ground
They clash in skies of black and white, and make the thunder sound
Generals from each side march on, with murder as their title
They say the need to overcome, is valuable and vital
Balance clings to futile hope of thwarting this destruction
And change the raging death pursuit, into a peaceful function
But competition holds its post as sentries look around
The gift of understanding, is nowhere to be found
Once more disruption wins the game as death defines the feud
Until tomorrows breaking dawn finds battle plans renewed

© Steve Bentley