Hold the embers in your mouth,
Its time to move the horses south,
dull the sharpest of the stones
There is no time left now.
Call the hunters, ask the sage,
shall we tell the tracks their age?
Shall we leave some riders too?
and scout the devils lurking?
Three long days and four long nights,
seen by hawk at first daylight,
the monsters have caught up again
it\'s time to turn and fight.
We ready our stallions and our bows
we ask the gods to shield the blows
thirty six arrows in air with hymns
to guide their holy path.
Symmetry unfolded then,
us little creatures scolded when
each and every one of us,
had a match to fight.
No one left that bloodied dance.
No ground was won, no gold or chance.
All lay in purposeless pose,
The final of their years.
As the gods looked down, they laughed.
The cycle forever, in its witchcraft,
destroys every single player,
having had the pleasure to play.
The stars and moon will forget the scene,
the grass that grows is no more green,
All that was and ever has been -
Will never be again.