Dragon with Flowing Hands
By Java Bomani

Momentary angst is gently pushed aside…
Like stagnate air in a glass container,
As the fluids of calm
Pour into the chalice of his soul.

Some thought it an optical illusion
The way the hands move…
So sure… So correct…
Cutting off route’s that are direct,
forcing danger the long way round.

Precise action,
Which opens up avenues to counters.
While escorting arms that stray,
In and out of harms way.

Strategic defense interceptors,
Launched by the mind to ensure safety
Like missile battery teams.

Blows with bad intentions
Die in the core of the Vortex’s swirl…

Without fanfare.

No banners…

No Trumpets or Bugles.

No prejudice of style or beauty.

None carry more favor than the last.

They’re all absorbed or pushed,
Re-directed and returned,
Like packages with high shipping rates
…and unpaid freight.

A short display in skill of technique
Let the aggressor know…

HE’S BEAT!

It doesn’t take a masters critique

To inspire the protester to…

RETREAT!

Before his invitation to the next level arrives.
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