Upon the coal-black river
dreaming rock chipped silver
he saw armies clash by night,
flashing swords
like a scene from history,
mustering, feeding
an army of his own,
army he needed in his solitude
during the COVID crisis.
A loved one gone, never to return,
friends and family far away,
worry over employment
a taste of vertigo,
an army now flashed fierce and strong,
to strengthen and illuminate
his solitude.
In the coal-black river
dreaming rock chipped silver
a deepening silence became
that unassailable army – until
the history-like scene
surrendered to a delicate poetry
of fireflies, afterthoughts
of stars. And then, instead,
as though from some luminous egg
lain on the water,
was born
the flash
of a flying saucer…
(Had some UFO or his loved one lain the moon?)
Clarity remained
Silence flowed
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