Patient Poem by Moses Samandar

I am waiting.
Waiting patiently in the Chinese hills.
Waiting for the army.
Waiting for a new technological age.
Waiting for my rival.
My enemy creeps up from nowhere.
He gazes at 6’5 from above.
I do not fear him.
He is my equal.
I can beat him.
I have the soul to beat him.
I am my own art of war.
No one can halt the army.
But I stop 20 men in their tracks.
They are much larger and stronger.
But I will win always.
No more footsteps.
We win.