Flat round stones – sized just so
fit neatly into the index finger’s curl.
Smooth catapult from the shoulder
the elbow, the wrist, the hand, the finger.
Index extension imparts the final thrust.
The rest is asymptotic declination.
The machine’s work is complete.
It is all that we have.
We have entertained the desire.
We have set the goal.
We have chosen the stone.
We have perceived the water’s plane.
We have estimated trajectory and speed.
We have given the machine to it’s work.
Dominion over the stone is forfeit
before the stone leaves finger’s curl.
Within the metamorphosis of action
the ability to even hold the stone is lost.
At some moment between desire and deed
Command cedes to consequence.
Intent surrenders to hope.
November 10, 2005 – February 2019
WandeRoseD 