This delicate dance

As I sit here and type, I think about the delicate dance I do between my fingers and my mind, my mind and my heart, So much to say, so much to ask, I want to know so much, But all I get are the same answers from my mind, "just be patient stupid", My mind can be really mean to me sometimes as you can see. There are so many delicate dances we do, More than just a simple waltz, we seem to just fly around, hither and yon, yet it is such the thing of beauty, around and into different subjects, all over the place, I fear I may dizzy at all the turns before the song ends, but I pray the song never ends, and I learn to soar as my heart does flutter, sould shiver at the thought. What a pleasant place to be, eye's closed, mind where it is happy, at least when my mind is there, it can't yell at me too much, anyway, i am not much of a yeller anyhow.