In cognito


	Intentions rise from countless notions,
		like a shoot out of darkness
		of prehistoric times,
		scarce of artefacts,
	Up to the warmth, still hidden from light.

	Intentions are unfathomable like illusions,
		like rays and shadows glide over,
		just by chance to decipher
		some human forces,
	Wandering in cognito, camouflaging, winding.

	Intentions extend into endless dimensions,
		like a bamboo bolting to the sky
		up into vast space,
		loosing past gravity,
	Giving Mars men notice of a hostile takeover.


	    
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				Udo Frentzen 2022