The Game Poem by Tony Adah

Somehow
By the providence of someone
We do not know
We came to where we are
Undulating fields, mountains and valleys
All ours for free
Sweet roses with thorns.

If man was to make man
We'd have remained stuck in the dust,
All the beauty in vain
Without any eye to see.

All actions would have been tied to man
And all men robots
Would seek order to walk, to eat or to laugh
Cry would've been the slaves' chains
On their ankles and wrists
And man would be right
Just as it was a necessity
No man ever made any man.