Uniformed and re-upped,
We are the mind sweepers,
The navel gazers moving lint,
Waiting for the image to strike.

We are the missals
And the launchers,
Looking through cross-hairs
From think tanks.

We captain verse vessels to shore,
Unload and return for more.

We are the Romantic
Ancient sub-conscious mariners
Stitched in hammocks.

We are rocketeers.
A force
To reckon.