My Poem ‘The Great Detective’

The great detective knows the streets of his city
like he knows the indelible lines on the palms of his hands;
the great detective sees the world and its people
as if they are an intricately-interwoven and infinite puzzle;
the great detective walks with knowledge and conviction,
with a mystery to be solved in his pocket,
and he knows of nothing that he has not already considered,
thought about, and played out in his mind in a hundred ways,
and because he sees and knows only
solutions and answers to every question,
the great detective walks with phenomenal confidence;
the great detective is not oblivious to breaking a sweat
and fighting for what he believes is right,
should the time and need arise –
however, he strives to find a way to win the day
without having to encounter, or get involved,
in any sort of tussle of trouble.

The great detective is always thinking,
and his imagination and his thought process
is boundless and second to none;
the great detective has a vast palace of memory
in which he keeps the things he holds the most precious;
the great detective has a mind as fast,
and a tongue as quick, as a bullet from a gun;
the great detective has seen wonders,
and has met people who exhibit traits of humanity
from all ends of the spectrum,
but he is still proud to call himself
a member of the human race –
however, he believes that when people do start listening
to what he has to say he will be the saviour of all of us.

The great detective believes above all else
that through logic and reasoning
even the improbable can have a reason for being
that can be simplified to a simple sentence;
the great detective is not afraid to act
and think simultaneously, and adapt on the fly;
the great detective thrives on the rush of a new experience;
the great detective knows he is good, perhaps great, at what he does –
so when asked if he is modest about his gifts he does not have to lie.

The great detective can conjure up a deduction in the blink of an eye;
the great detective has seen things that are so beyond words
and description, the only other way to classify them
would be to think of them as magic;
the great detective himself cannot not pigeon-holed,
nor his ego or self-belief subdued –
although some have failed when they have tried;
the great detective is like a force of nature,
and even to himself, when he looks in the mirror at his reflection,
or when he considers the most perfect of callings for himself,
he always returns to the most elementary conclusion
at the end of his deductions:
and that is that, beyond anything or anybody that he could be,
he is, and was always meant to be, who he is,
and who he will always be – the great detective.

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