Rhythm to me is essentially what Hopkins called the taste of self. I taste myself as rhythm.
In a murderous time/the heart breaks and breaks/and lives by breaking.
Deftly they opened the brain of a child, and it was full of flying dreams.
End with an image and don't explain.
You must be careful not to deprive the poem of its wild origin.
Be what you are. Give What is yours to give. Have Style. Dare.