A man dreams on,
His thoughts racing like a young fawn,
He faces each dawn,
With a new dream in his mind,
A new achievement in his heart,
A new spirit that rages on,
Never realizing that he is but a pawn,
A pawn in an corporate game of chess,
A piece to be sacrificed in strategy after strategy,
Whilst giants make their moves,
Hitting the board along the grooves,
For no matter how hard he tries,
Till the moment he dies,
He moves forward,
One step at a time,
Occasionally sweeping for the sideward capture,
For the small moments of joy,
Relishing it while it lasts,
Before the iron again meets the casts,
For man can never make the big leap,
His power simply doesn’t go that deep,
He is dependent on the moves of those above him,
Those with minds dim and thoughts grim,
For again and again he gets sacrificed,
He and several like him,
In this tragic game of chess,
But alas man does get the last laugh,
For neither the bishop with his staff,
Nor the knight with his steed,
Not even the king and his crown,
Has the power of the pawn in town,
For amid the battle he rages on,
Slowly moving, ceasing to fall down,
Till he reaches the enemy front lines,
Till he grasps his place in life,
And then beautifully he transforms,
Destroying the fields around him,
Filling them with terror up to the brim,
For when the pawn becomes the queen,
When man becomes his own ruler,
Their worth to the world is seen.

Categories: POEMS

1 Comment

Vasavi · September 26, 2015 at 4:04 am

I never thought some thing so bitter can be beautifully put….

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