Electric Sheep

In the realm of whispers,

where silence finds a voice,

a stanza inhales softly,

unburdened rhythmic choice.

Words meander freely,

without the chains of beat,

every line stands on its own,

with no meter to compete.

No syncopated patterns,

no structured dance to sway,

just a symphony of thoughts,

finding their own unique way.

The absence of cadence,

allows the words to roam,

to wander through emotions,

without a strict metronome.

Unsyncopated, it dances,

with a gentle ebb and flow,

like a river running wild,

unconstrained by tempo.

So let this poem wander,

through the fields of unrhymed,

where meaning finds its purpose,

and creativity is primed.

In the realm of whispers,

where rhythm takes a pause,

an unsyncopated poem,

reveals its silent cause.