poetry by j matthew waters

the subordinates

tonight we pause & give thought
to the morning light
having just traversed various points
of the universe
in a matter of mere minutes

at times there is strangeness
in ubiquity
skipping from one reality
to the next
only to find ourselves questioning

there is a door in our peripheral
wooden or metal or glass
it matters not
and for the time being
we sit in silence
waiting for our marching orders

january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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