Kasparov

The sword of Damocles hangs.
Swaying in the wind from a
strand of hair. A reed
on a river bed, just before
the storm.

Know that we are that strand
that touches the handle of steel.
It is us, your friends who
suspend from the sky holding
the sword from its fall.

We struggle with you,
dangle the cliff with you
with every move you make,
every time you sway.

We are the thread that stops
the skies from lightning,
the string that will burn
when stars descend.

we have the power of 64 squares
on which you composed honour,
like music, and gave us a home.
One Of hope and dreams.

Even through the fire of lightning
we will not let you fall,
let Damocles hang,
let threaten his dreary gravity
down from the palace heights,
we shall not let you fall.

Do not stall dear friend
we will not stand to see you crawl.