Sheepomancer

Motion’s art and purest skill,
Going quick and time feels still
Jumping, leaping, landing fast
Fate your fuel and will your mast

Why stop and rest and waste my time?
Time is precious; waste, a crime
Fluid motion needs the mind
Risking death, escape Earth’s bind!

Gravity, that Fiend most cruel!
It pulls, it drags, it wishes duel!
My foot won’t stick to ground-that whore-
Feet rush quick and dodge the floor.

Fulfilling desires from within;
Desires quenched by art of motion