Movement

Movement in the right direction didn't 

seem divine insight & flights of fancy 

weren’t always indulgences imagined; 

most delight came in recognising the 

potential perplexity of a flaw’s recipe 

So we invent a regime where change is 

ordinary-and-day-to-day - events don’t 

always sequence, instead a dovetailing 

of uncoordinated dis-contiguity lends a 

constant of unerring credulousness 

That defuses surplus energy we had 

stored for a rainy day - stuff we never 

get to wrestle any normal which-way 

yet still clandestinely debilitates all 

those normality precepts supposed 

We’ll sleep on it, easier’n shearing a 

beast you say, enjoying indifference 

steeped in staid, common parlance 

indoctrinated with someone’s waking 

view of what’s purportedly native wit 

But sleep only dulls the need, or cures 

fugitive belief it hones instincts into an 

insightfully keened rearward view of 

the same old precepts - and they’re 

going nowhere endlessly; so 

Novelty is the cue - an unavoidable

consequence of direction lost in truth 

means any movement bears some 

grace offering better reasons to avoid 

the farce of staying only in one place 

© 14 July 2014, I. D. Carswell