Master of Movement

It’s but a moment,
A pulling of strings.

Unfolding creation,
And all that it brings.

And then there are parts,
That only be found.

Alone in the darkness,
With feelings unsound.

Master of movement,
With a mind of steel.

Who won’t be distracted,
By we who will feel.

His job is simple,
But only for he.

We must let him to work,
We must let him be.

The hand he will place,
On tension that builds.

With masters of movement,
This will be fulfilled.

Cries in the distance,
And deep down beneath,

Beyond all that action,
And gnashing of teeth.

The feeling of loss,
Feeling of glory.

The feeling of gratitude,
At ends of stories.

To have that moment,
That place and that time.

Experience perhaps,
To further a rhyme.

Or maybe a chant,
A dance or a tune.

Or fuel for a future,
Arriving too soon.
© 2021 TheRememberings Ltd.

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