M I S    T AKE

it waves without precision.    
        no routine constricts its form.
        no impulse of its own defines it.
it is loose.
        it spells surrender.
        it makes no sound audible to human ears.

yet there is an equation waving on the rim:
        coordinates that dictate;
        influence
        that inspires tension—

it moves without knowing 
it is its own belief.