The Board, to say the least

Errant thoughts, spinning ‘round and ‘round,
Through my mind, so tightly wound,
Will I sleep or will I die,
To know the truth in front of lie,

The river runs both night and day,
Going around every which way,
Angst and trouble are busy a brewin’,
Building and building until nothing but ruin,

Fethor, the one, who grows up aground,
Ganz, who makes sure our friend is not found,
Handel, a child with a tittering laugh,
And Zero, the one who is on the wrong path,

Rose is around but is worrisome at best,
No one is missing and refuses to mess,
Mystery is around, hanging about,
And others arrive, to look at the bout.

Trouble a brewin’, gets stronger each day,
Drawing us nearer, trying to stay,
Seal up the board? Worry appears,
For that would turn on more of our fears,

Something there, that will not go,
Everything connected, just like so,
What will we do? When the time comes?
Will we stand up and fight, or turn and run?