The game of Chess

 

Jackals come to my pyre but don't weep;

Bake your cakes and enjoy sound sleep;

I am not a vote bank that sound and blow;

I am an innocent soul whose pyre glow.

I am a ripened life in gloomy sunlight,

I am a gentle and calm soul bright,

I am a gentle bird in muddled game,

I am a bright star that shines but no fame. 

 

I am a pyre with blown up many a dream, 

Come and warm yourself but don't grieve,

When you read these lines at dawn hush,

I will be in succumb tally made in rush.

Defend your wickets against cruel bowlers,

It is not the fire crackers, but dream howlers.