Last night
I witnessed the ghost
Of a tall and white bearded
Old man rise from an
Unmarked desert grave
Play his wooden flute
And kick up
His cowboy boots
Beneath a new moon
I lacked heart
To tell him
The resistance is now
Nothing more
Than twigs in the flood
And victory
Is an utterance
On the lips of fools
But still
I managed a smile
As our eyes met
And with a wink
He reminded me
That winning
Was never an option
And certainly
Not a reason for war
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