It is in the timing,

It is in the timing,

All things are.

However obliquely

There is a sequence

Of events that need to occur

Before it is safe to proceed.

Unconsciously

We assess and establish

Degrees of probability

Formulate plans of action

And compute a series

Of procedures

Whilst switching our attention

From one thing to another.

Through the repeated performance

Of everyday tasks.

We wash, get dressed, eat breakfast

And clean our teeth

With thoughts elsewhere.

Marking time,

Rehearsing the day

Hoping a headache will go away,

We think of meetings we have

And what we will say.

If all is well

And we finish all we start,

With no warning bells

Or flutter of the heart

We just continue on our way.

But there are occasions,

When synchronicity is challenged.

Timing goes awry,

And the internal clock,

The metronome,

Upon which we all rely

Begins to change its pace.

It might slow down or speed up and race

This may precipitate a dis-ease

With our place in the world

And we begin to fear

Every single thing.

A door can be a coffin

A room become a cell

Miscounting time can

Be a jailor,

Discounting all our tears,

Sully all our trials.

And out of shame or fear

We develop a new strategy

Of prolonged procrastination

To a very high degree,

Spend hours involved in

A form of meditation,

Refining just one task.

Re-defining its limits

And if anyone should ask,

We bluff and bluster, filibuster

`Till the cows come home

And in the end

They melt away,

To leave us on our own,