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.