The Wordist
He pulls words out of the open skies
As fires sprinkle their sightly plumes
Bravery is a soft romantic escapade
Riding stallions through cosmic rooms
The skies, his fun-filled playground
His feet suspended by nothing at all
Give rise to his spirit, his comrade in arms
His manuscript, his animated toy to scrawl
When life is a narrow prison for the soul
Words are spoken with a girded reverence
The wordist shakes them way out of his mind
His sanity in question, a walk upon the fence
He is a poet, a proud rebel of the audacious kind
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