A game of chess in the pavilion remains unfinished. The white stones form a pincer movement, while the black s…
A game of chess in the pavilion remains unfinished.
The white stones form a pincer movement, while the black stones seek to overwhelm the few with the many.
A standoff, where victory is hard to judge. Not until the key white stones are captured and no moves remain does the outcome become clear.
Human hearts are dark and untrustworthy. Why not withdraw and reset the board for a grander scheme?
Snow turns to mud in the soil; it becomes flowers on the branch. As long as spring is everywhere, the snow will find its place of clarity. Why not enter the game oneself, saving the present, and then plan for the future?
White is gone. You cannot hold on.
If this game fails, there is always the next. If we fail, others will follow.
What to do when no moves remain?
Even then, one move remains: to enter the game oneself, using blood as a stone.
The game in the pavilion is over; the winner is yet to be decided.