Hard words delivered fast in a fury of certainty
Melt back to the corners of my consciousness slowly
When the fool marches forth with his lecturing and monotony
I pause lest I respond too fast.
My silence they mistake for weakness or impropriety,
But it is only a measured response to their haste
For there is no sense in speaking often and loudly
To a man whose ears are wide yet shut.
Words without impact carry no value
I save mine for when the time is right
And if that time never comes for us
I let retreating footsteps say what remains.
