When All Else Fails

The screws refuse to align again,

and the light switch flickers spitefully,

mocking my grasps for proper touch.

Cords tangle into a monstrous knot

when the ceiling fan won't twirl right,

and instructions lie half-unfurled, ignored.

Stubborn recluse, the manual reclines

in some distant drawer, smugly waiting,

patient as a sphinx in a pharaoh's tomb.

Each line, a directive clergy of sorts,

offering salvations in crisp diagrams,

translating chaos into understood order.

Such arrogance in my grumbling attempts

to conquer screws, switches by intuition!

A testamentary relic humbles, clearly,

teaching me ritual over reckless endeavor,

its wisdom unchanged by frustration's din,

visual oracle midst our technical Babel.

When devices wage war, I now bow,

prayerful, to their papery guardians,

find grace in surrender and follow suit,

embracing humility, guide leading novice,

until the rebellious gears turn peacefully,

machinery, and man finally reconciled.