Upon a silent battlefield of Black and White,
Beheld the beginnings of a dueling site,
There’s no middle ground in which you can stand,
Choose in the Game of Chess- Shadow or Light.

“Today, this day, there is room for one color,”
Said the King of Black to his White brother,
“Move when ready, my greatest foe,
The stronger side shall crush the other.”

“Ready as ever, the time is just right,”
Said the White King, who sent forth his Knight.
“I as an aggressor shall see through this storm;
See to a victory so pure and so White.”

Black looked onto the field and moved his Pawn two,
White cleared a path for his Bishop who,
Observed the Black Queen emerge from her place,
Just threateningly behind her defense crew.

White thought for sure, that he could penetrate the devil,
Thought for sure he had him in a swindle,
Until the Black Queen made headway towards him,
And slowly and steadily his pieces had dwindled.

Angered and irritated by the single-piece storm,
The White King would not let his strategy be torn,
Deploy the decoy maneuver- an expendable White Knight,
And the Black Queen had taken it without forewarn.

“En garde!” shouted the White Bishop from across the board,
The Black Queen gasped- her life was his reward.
A scowl stained the Black King’s stiff face,
“I’m broken, not beaten, this won’t go ignored!”

The tournament raged on, anger anew,
Black Queen-less, while White wounded too,
Retribution was set in their minds,
To fight to win, and so they ensued.

An exchange- the last White Bishop for a Black Rook,
For the better vantage point, he mistook,
For if Black knew anything, it’s think three steps ahead,
Outwit White in his game of “hook or by crook!”

A few more moves and the White had swindled!
Ahead of the sparse White Pawns, his attack rekindled!
Black’s Pawn fortress was broken, moreover open.
As Black entered spite checks, his choices dwindled.

Check!

A castle! The Black Rook had traded spots with his King,
What a remarkable, quick-witted thing,
That not only saved the Black King from checkmate,
But exposed the Black Rook to the White King!

Check!

Seconds to minutes to hours, it mattered not anymore,
Black and White alike did not see it before,
That their sacrifices and bold choices,
Caused them to be the last pieces left on the board.

A battle that began in orderly lines had instead,
Dispersed in haphazard formation wrecked,
Until an end of perpetual check,
Because neither King could kill the other dead.

Reluctantly, the Black King sighed displeased,
“A Stale-mate is to be agreed.
No more pieces to fight, no army on the board.
No Grandmaster, or victory award to be seen.”

The board is Black and White for one reason or another.
A King who kills has no uniform color,
If his sword is stained with the blood of the other.