Iambic Pentameter
They soon Internalised,
iambic pentameter,
to their lives,
as if,
walking required,
a
rhythm,
to be walking,
and living,
asked of you,
a certain pattern,
determined by the haruspex,
who lives on the edge of the woods,
and offers songs to the gods,
the gods he invented,
with twine and sinew,
more real than the shifting of the sand dunes,
maybe tetrameter,
suits their lives,
the tempo of their choices,
chosen slowly by the sky,
line,
breaks,
and rhyming,
climbing,
towards perfect form,
predictability, familiar, warm,
until the old voices speak,
and a trochee disrupts the waves.