The Bending

The day bumps into me
In a somewhat orderly fashion
I careen about in perpendicular thought
The pattern of my musings-

Unpredictable.

Organizational skills belie the output
A quest for process is on autopilot
My savvy heart is at unrest
For a pair of palms to please it

The psychedelic churning of all I preside
Tightens my already twisted fist
Permeable skins that ease off layers
Beg to become fused with foreign oil.

This focus is mute. It has been.
It must. There is a rhyme to the reasons
That stoke the continued need to plant
Stoicism at my chest.

To stand at this attention is an awesome duty.
The risk, too great, should I lose sight-
There is so much good that I have fostered
And for that, the bending will ensue.

A smile in a moment of weakness-

The welcome of proper standing takes note.
My efforts are unfailing.
To be Just. True.
And  Strong.