I can sense your impatience...

While yours truly (me)

doth strives to maintain

comfortably seated

closed eye meditative pose

mine skinny sea thru legs

(mere fo' shaw

by George spindleshanks) outstretched,

(cuz Lotus position impossible mission -

would warrant emergency circumstance

leaving stalwart fellow

as permanent paraplegic)

even crossed legs painstaking ordeal),

nevertheless arms draped limply

and/or tucked under

respective knobby knee

herewith barely audible sighs

Ahab boomerang reverberating sound

can be faintly yet clearly heard

courtesy thee self trained

ventriloquist missus

indicating slightly perturbed air

immediately disrupting mine ascent

into transcendent state,

which self induced

light quasi hypnotic trance

doomed to suffer blistering defeat

despite best guru vee college try

subjected to additional

pronounced relentless interruptions

unavoidably eventually experiences

heavy set bodily mass

loosing violent figurative waters

witnessing severe mattress flexion

testing material strength

jackknifing irksome husband

precariously rocking zen

rolling poor buoy to and fro,

hither and yon

him sternly clinging

against steep odds

tossing last raft of lifeline

before pitching the

dreadfully knotted sir into limbo

challenging laws of physics

re: offsetting his center of gravity

think skiff madly scrambling

barreling, keeling, tipping over

analogous to bobbing

rickety weatherbeaten hulk

landing headfirst upon wooden floor,

where ohm man hiss expletives

immediately supplanting

formerly invoked mantra.