What does one do

W' does one do, illusion of characters perceived
You are so wrong, as said, as fingers point reaching.
Could I be, stood on solid grounds so strong?

And know not and see not, what not
As fault lines hold cracks beneath
Covered patches of temporary hold

I must be in luck, landing on this day
A stretch away from rest stops bundle
Before elasticity, in strings fail to hold

For Sundays, claim to heal wrong
That wounds can be redressed on war fields
To hold the fort, long as possible, on cracked roads

As defined characters strong hold belief
That broken bridges held on last string
Seen so wrong, so faulty, so weak, can stand

Gently, gently, to convey us to the other-side.
I choose to ignore the hype of sceptics wrong
So, so mentioned in debilitating believes

Now, that is to be my action plan
When one is asked the question on chess
What does one do, what is one to do