Gist

Billowing sails embolden themselves
Taking care to not snag on a hindrance
Sometimes, getting used to the gust is vital.
Recognizing the slow moving giant has raised a head
And not merely an eyebrow.
That, a profound detail, in and of itself.
Too much fluff around the point.
Sometimes the point needs sharpening in the silence.
I sense the radiant murmurs of who I  have always been-
Returning to me.
Sideswiping the chaos that kept resilience out to pasture.

Fuck that 'dwelling too far out'
Nonsense but perhaps necessary.
The slack that I have needed has been residing in these wrists all along.
Recognize, deploy... Grasp.
I need but return to the gist of my guns,
To fire off the cannon that matters most.

Providence claims this victory.
And on I move for the win.