PRECISION

I spring forth the words from my mouth

Like a decathlon

I ready myself

Winged and feathered,

I cannot decapitate my soul

The fight is always on my mind

Hindsight,

The banner of darkness,

Cannot avail me

Inside,

The mouth opens and speaks

The ear nods and delegates

I spring forth words for myself

Creating the kingdom in the sands of time

Words of far-fetched wisdom

Lost and found idioms that hang in the eaves

The self explanatory goes berserk

The humble stare and stare

For when I stand in their snares,

The stars freeze in their gaze

And down the tide goes

The wind no longer blows

Silent it stays

Whistling to its far away mother

And when the dust is settled

When the moon landings have all taken place

I remain tall and high in my crude space

A sojourner in the space of time

A figment of your imagination...