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The Fist


Rusty Broadspear

Pounding through time,
With an arbitrary mission.
We shall call it the Fist,
By pure definition.

A relentless chunk,
Plunging ever forward,
Unstoppable - almost....
Burnished black - onward.

A necklace of stars
Sweep ceaselessly by.
Light years ahead, the Milky Way,
A spiralling sightless eye.

Punching the void
A soulless inexpressive fist...........
We met, for the first time,
We held, laughed, cried, kissed.

The Fist held a future,
Providence, fate.
In pursuit of a destiny
To which we cannot relate.

For the Fist carried seed.
To annihilate, populate.
Unprogrammed, random,
This stony weight.

She'd stepped from my dreams,
We were alone in the crowd.
There was no change of path,
It persistently ploughed.

Unseen crossed hairs
Were now centred on Earth.
The Fist, about to pummel
And unknowingly give birth.

She led me to the taxi,
We were drowning in love.
Unsuspectingly dreaming futures,
Unaware of the Fist above.......

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