the sailing stones
were thought to be
a phenomenon
it was incomprehensible
that a rock
the inanimate
     of all inanimates
should show signs
     of movement
here was mystique
here was mystery
perhaps a message
left by
cosmic energies
or
higher beings
undecipherable
     unexplainable
there could have been
beauty
in never knowing
in letting
     the idea remain
pure
untainted
restorative

alas
we cannot bear
the unexplained;
where the miraculous
is founded
   in uncertainty
we must probe
and pry
until an answer
is found
whether for benefit
betterment
or
hindrance

perhaps a balance
can be found
between the known
and what remains
acceptably unknown
before
the intrigue
and enchantment
are marred by
the bland
     the sterile
          the prosaic

it's been used
quite meaninglessly
twice
    maybe
       three times
and
in between that
it is simply
a dust trap
in hindsight
it was
a waste

i must
have known
that it would
barely
     if ever
get used
lured
beyond sense
     and reason;
the novelty
behind the idea
silenced
any concept
of logic
     or prudence

being able
to say
i own
the same typewriter
as such
a great mind
must mean
something

even so
         if not
it shall remain
on display
esoteric
ironic
impotent
amidst the pages
of my bookshelf

we don't look too closely
and certainly don't look
directly at it
it's something that
as far as we are aware
has always been there
and always will be

it sends us
its warmth
its light
and from this
comfort
     and peace
will be shared

unseen
by eyes that are
unwilling to look;
at its surface
is a storm of fire
a raging
that cannot be controlled
with the power
to destroy it all

don't look too closely
just smile back

if you talk
about it
they'll tell you
its just a case
of centring yourself
before
it builds up;
placing yourself
in the moment
and understanding
what cannot be changed

except
there is
no progression
no steady curve
it goes from
a carefully traced line
to a scratched
scrawling scribble
that tears
through leaf
after leaf
of paper
whether the message
is legible
or not

apparently
        its simple;
in that split second
between empathy
        and apathy
before the destruction
of everything
outweighs
the strength
of all
that has been
accomplished
i simply need
to breath deep
and
count
           to
                ten

i'm still waiting
to be told
what to do
when my count
reaches ten
and
i'm still
angry

the problem
with buying clothes
these days
is not knowing
if anything
will fit
properly
or even
suit you
until it arrives

instead
rather than
just return items
that i decide
i don't want
i hunt for
a loose thread
and pick at it;
first
with finger and nail
when that is not enough
next comes
a gnashing of teeth
and
if needs be
i am not above
brandishing scissor
or knife
to split the seam
gaping
wide
before complaining
that the item
is faulty

i am never proud
of myself
when i do it
there would be
no difficulty
in returning it
as unwanted
but
this way
i don't end up
paying postage
twice

i tried on
a new shirt
it fitted ok
not perfectly
by any means
but well enough
               for its price
it would be suitable
for the occasion
i suppose

it could perhaps
be a little longer
as it is liable
to ride up
and reveal my stomach
if i raise my arms
it's also
a little tight
across the chest
if i'm honest
and
now that I think about it
i'm not certain
it actually
suits me

i could just wear
one of my other shirts
that would probably
be more comfortable
and would
save spending
needlessly
there's the old blue one
after all;
i haven't worn that
for awhile

this must be
the correct train
there was not
another option
it was waiting
        on the expected platform
it departed
        at the expected time
and
it headed
        in the expected direction

despite what I might tell myself
i remain on edge
at every juncture
        of the journey
every announcement
sets me on edge
every stop
sees me checking
        double-checking
that this is
the anticipated station
that i am on course

even when assured
of heading
the right way
there is no relaxation
instead
a countdown is commenced
of each station
to be visited
before reaching
that final destination
as each station
is passed
another count is completed;
numbering
one stop less
than the previous

but still
i will lose track
of where i am
of how far i need to go
panic will set in
blinded by doubts
and undue regrets
i will question
it all

it just doesn't
come naturally
there's an awkwardness
a failure
to accurately convey
what needs
to be
conveyed

either that
or uncontrolled words
twist sentences
contort the sentiment
that was intended

feigning the expected
mimicking those witnessed
bought success
in the past
but
under closer scrutiny
the charade
would be discovered

for now though;
this silence
has drawn on
far
     too
           long
without response

another chance
wasted

even as adults
given two magnets
we will strive
to force
each matching pole
together
with all
that can be mustered

we learnt
from a young age
that this would not
be possible
and yet
despite this
we would still
push
and
push
until the tips
finally touched
only
to burst apart
as soon as
our grip
was relaxed

it seems we understood
but
would not accept

there is no point
in trying to force
a connection;
it cannot
and will not
last

i bought a chair
that i thought was
exactly
what i was looking for
exactly
what i needed

the style
           the shape
                        the colour
ergonomic perfection

that something so simple
could align with
my needs
my wants;
i was surprised
i admit
it caught me off guard

but in time
the comfort i thought
i had found
was found wanting
dissipated

adjustments were made
and support toyed with
plumped up
or reduced
as seemed necessary
only to achieve
further discomfort
and anger

perhaps this desire
(or desperation)
to find
an idea of perfection
dulled my senses
forced
what did not truly fit

i have now spent
more time
seated
upon the floor
considering a replacement;
unable to commit
to discarding
this imperfect throne

i have no confidence
in finding anything better
and will likely continue
second guessing myself
as i second guess myself