King

Life is a game of chess, and we, my friends, are the kings. Nature is the Queen, the one we destroy and call it a “technological breakthrough”, the planets are knights in shining armour and the sun is a pawn, always there, protecting, dying for its monarchy.

I said we were kings, and you probably thought I meant we were wealthy, rulers of the world, better than everyone else. You thought I was being spiritual, perhaps, speaking from a psychological point of view. But no. I was speaking of the kings in a game of chess, the only players on the board who have to die for the game to continue. Those kings aren’t what you think; they aren’t strong, or rich, or wonderful. They might be important, but isn’t everyone? Nor are they rulers, nor greedy, nor power-hungry. No. The kings in chess are one thing, and only one. They are vulnerable. Every move is made to protect them but they have to die, they always have to die at the hands of another side, a side gone mad, corrupted by a desire to win…

We are kings. We have to die, one day. The difference is, we control what happens first.

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