Battle of Wits on Chequered Soil

On a piece of land, not alien in time
sixty four hamlets, dwell in peace
till seeds of lust, bewitch their smiles
greeding for every inch, they toil..
 

Once united souls, stand devoid of spirit
blind to shadows creeping, in the all serene light
a unified light, now split as white and black
two illusions of Faith, fallen apart...
 

Uniformed in isms, one black, one white
battle lined in rows, avowed to fight
their king in the middle, conniving his moves
while troops take guard, in rank and file..

 

This battle of  wits, holds mercy for none
each soul is pawned, with no love in return
when lust and hate, take centre stage
blinded is the love, in this holocostic craze...

 

The battle may be won, by a black or a white
with all the king's horses and men supine
the king may rejoice, in disillusioned pride
left counting all stars, which dazzled his life...
 

..sublime_ocean....