through turbulent tides
into twinkling forests
of my memory…
time washes over me
I never understood.
I don’t listen
to fill the silence.
I don’t advance,
I don’t believe
not the kind that can be taken—
I want to know everything
not to theorize
but to be the whisper in the wind.
How does a man, become a great man?
I see them
in the movies
their white smiles under silver sunglasses
their attitude, that takes them to a high altitude
no matter the threat, their style is a triple threat
a force, with balls, that will step-out in faith
a combat confidence, expressed
with passion, perfectly controlled
that dances to the song of danger.