A slide in waiting requires
a moving body, a scampering thought
to endure its purpose: a bottom above
and itself below.
Defenses with hill fences
hallow the terrain
and arts with wars
hold the conviction
that stands a mountain
on topography's plane.
Will;
a pause rends the chance
for sureness
for pureness
for a sway in a direction
without recourse to return.
Can I can my mind
with a certain seal
a wax without paper
a writing without
assay or ungainly words?
Answers come easy
when action comes short
while wisdom's remonstrations
are a pity's retort.
It's thus,
in a candle's fervor
I'm wax,
dripping,
while a flame feels nearby
but not yet a part of my schtick.
Roman Ryan 