poetry by j matthew waters

ancient mariners

the clock strikes seven
an arc of fire in the sky
someone shoots at the moon
& arrows fly from nation
to nation to nation

nobody is to be spared
that’s the beauty of it all
men & women off to war
near zero to lose
& everything to gain

ancient ambitions
remain well stitched within
a strand of hope if you will
the clans reunited
refocusing on the stars

september two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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