They are the ones who puzzle me. I am the one who learns from them. Two scheming teams with sharp minds and strong wills like me. Two among the tables of many. Four who are waging a mental battle. From my seat I can feel the tension, but can’t wrap my mind around the strategy.

Their hands are hidden. Mental messages, implied with every play. They toss the cards in, and deal them out and make decisions in the blink of an eye and pester each other over the smallest misplay. This is how they win.
One hand taken too far, and the entire game is thrown, hard work and trickery gone to waste. Trump, trump, trump wins the game, the only advice they ever give.

When I am too tired and too confused to keep observing, when my mind is stretched beyond its capacity, then I understand. When all else has faded, and the feelings remain. Two teams playing with heart. Two who battle and love alike. Two whose only reason is to play.