Spryly aim your pointed arrow
Draw forth vaulted courage
Call to the depths of your medal
Bend intent at its course and surge

And fire the truest
Most molten affect.

Promptly shape the tensing sinews
Of your malcontent
Harness your tirades
Beckon they be throat-stead rent

And spit a righteous
Incendiary word.

Nimbly wear the Fool’s hat
With a brackish pride
Wag a wanton finger
At the reign of compromise

And singe the cowards
For their hesitance.

Quickly give your last
Before the thought of lapse
Push the outer limits
Of every giving synapse

And save nothing
For the faintest spark of excess.

And if these processes
Seem weirdly foreign
Or misfit within
The best of commonplace

There is a name
For this noble haste

Good Speed.