A short poem
By Richard D. Lange, January 2026
"The Grandmaster"
The Grandmaster plays a most beautiful game.
With flourish and flair, pieces twirl, stomp, and sing.
A ballet of movement advances the knight.
A tactical blunder, but oh! What a sight!
Opponent impassive, it calculates mate.
Rote execution, inexorable fate.
The Grandmaster plays in humanity's name,
Not to win, but to play a most beautiful game.