These are my words,
soft and sheltered in solitude.
These are my words,
spiraling.
amidst the the fires,
Centrifugal and ragged.
Can you hear my words
through your shroud.
See my lips stiffen, a repose,
just a star's flicker from endless
discussion.
Are these nothing but word's,
Baritone sentiment's dancing
on windows, raining down
on peeved passersby.
Whether they find passage
into your disposition,
or met with defiance.
I will not abdicate
that which is deservedly mine
As with your wishes,
Ever vacillating,
I do bow.
Should you kneel
wheat to wind
That these are my words,
perpetually here,
utterances
without end.
N.Pablito
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