My uncle.
Who I love.
Is a peculiar man.
He once told me of the oddest conspiracy.
He said that the reason major governments of the earth don't fight each other constantly, is because the already do.
In space.
Each country has a ship.
Armed and maned to the teeth.
And they just shoot at each other.
Everyday.
And that's how all of the big national disputes were settled.
Star Trek style.
So when I heard this, I tossed my thoughts into the atmosphere.
Letting them swirl and shine among the satellites.
What did they do, up there?
Sitting in their spaceships.
Thinking of each other.
Wondering why they all were stuck in tin can time bombs.
Surrounded by the icy void.
Waiting for their ships to be shot out of the sky.
The debris to fall through children's dreams and shooting stars.
Spitting sparks like ancient dragons.
And these people wait for that.
Hidden from sight and mind.
Only just to shoot at each other.
Over a border, a mans wish, or a loaf of bread.
Inspired by seeing article about why conspiracies appeal to us, and wondered how I would write it as a poem. And my uncle.