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Hovering Lights

Something deep beneath the ground

screened by a camouflage of wizardry
deep within a forest – concealed by
steel and glass, rooms where work
by foreign hands – accumulate among
us – filtered in as bees at dusk and yet
a city is filled with pride.

Promises from Heads of State’s of
prosperity – while armed men stand guard
near rooms of white, so we watch
at a distance in the middle of the night –
odd colored lights extend toward the sky
where lights are greeting by a strong beam
of light, hovering to join together.

In daylight – workers gather wearing
badges on their chests and checking
in – by starring at a screen – inspecting
the retina of their eye – but every night
as a city sleeps – if you stare above the
tallest pine – an array of lights from the
unknown visits to inspect this ground.
A grand display – built to help the future
for your children, and boost the economy.

Impossible to pronounce the names who
gather here – lists appear in local news so
neighbors greet and meet – included are
prestigious folks to the trivial, unimportant,
replaceable keeper of the ground – eyes have
seen more than two thousand souls beneath
the ground.

Plans began long ago when colored lights had
left this forest, and no one deemed the stories
true – until you stood too watch, on a clear night,
a midnight sky when one last light shall hover, alone.

It will end when day turns to night and colors
no longer bright, meet one last blast of light –
no longer shall a clean room exist, no visitors
to pass a guard at a gate.

No our earth, robbed of natures beauty, taken
further into our universe, to start once more.

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