You may call me the rhythmagician
Occasional metaphysician
Philosophically flaying conditions
Collating words by pattern and sound
(I) create the absurd by scattering ‘round
Notions of motion while standing quite still—
Such is my devotion, demanding what will
Or what may, must and might
I do say justly right
In tempo and pace, embracing I borrow
My center and base from faith that tomorrow
We will all still be changing position
Though I may stake no claim to omniscience
You may call me the rhythmagician