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My words: Like shoe laces, Straight and simple,

In diverse colors of the rainbow, they reach out to my people,
Like bowls and sickles in the hands of the gleaner,
To some ‘em sweeter, and to some ‘em bitter,
Careless lacings get you entangled,
Hurried lacings get you confused,
Daft lacings leaves you in shambles,
An just Like the transition from manhood to boyhood,
No lacings speaks abject retrogression,
The more you lace, the intricate it becomes,
The more you wait, the more you negate its reforms,
For a diverse of legs, are a diverse of lacings,
And: for a diverse of heads are words in diversity,
For the words of the met are likened to the deep waters,
Roof top sniper, felling out issues with shells of divine mystery

And just as proverbial as the medieval,

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Thus a fountain of wise words is much more refreshing than the

liveliest of brooks…
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The most silent of words are the most potent and pronounced…

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Verily merrily present is an un-imaginable loss on every gain,

And an: A-gain again and again, gained amidst even the slightest
of pains…
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.For THY words are my words,

And THY thoughts are my thoughts.

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