The sleeves on my vest
Or base layer as Finisterre
Choose to call it, ride up
To sit above my elbows
It is a minor irritation
Although I am not sure
That it warrants a complaint
But perhaps a query to quality control
Instead to watch Gen Kelsang Nyema
Focussing on the positive frame of mind
I am asked to sit comfortably
Feet on the floor, hands in my lap
Which is much as I began the day
And so so settled did I become
That sleep welcomed me into its house
Until the meditation alarm woke me
And now I have been told
That I am infallible, though
I do believe sarcasm may be involved
I would anyway have preferred unfathomable
Like the bicycling man from Sheffield
Who followed his dream
Or rather he followed his gut instinct
And all turned out, sort of, ok
