The Nations Leaders

Pick up the pieces, the remnants of your folly, you few who shuffle the decks of life. So few to guide ones destiny, giving quality or lack of, to your indigenous subjects. Contesting paladins that manipulate every move, each infinitesimal pawn representing a million fold, facing extinction from each perpetrating venomous queen, masquerading in her veil of respectability, whilst threatening in all directions, just seeking to intimidate before striking the ultimate blow for her player. A stalemate situation giving both sides honour without loss, but whom gives a through to the mother’s, are not her losses the nations also, are not her tears programmed, her emotions computerized into your warring brain? Who! Are these unmoralistic puppeteers, those ignominious players of the ultimate game, those that stand behind courteous expressions of decency, love and respect? “The kings of this game,” Them to be written into the annals of life, giving intent of emulation to future disciples. “History has no past, no future, just a recurring theme, only the names change” © Harry J Horsman 1990