To still the mind, or so it's said,
It's best to sit oneself cross-legged,
And duly count on inspiration,
One... then two, on exhalation.
Proceed until you get to ten
And then? Why, simply start again.
Continue till mind's ceaseless chatter
Is no issue, is no matter.
But having tried this tested path
I have to say, is this a laugh?
I barely get to four all told
Before the thoughts stream, manifold.
In contrast when I sit to write
I'm blocked, an hour, sometimes a night.
To lay my eyes on screen or paper,
It seems converts my mind to vapour.
And in this reverie I stay
Until the muse moseys my way
And says, "let's set this poor wretch free"
Allowing inspiration. Woop-de-dee!
The answer then is written here,
To write - we squat cross-legged, it's clear?
And quell our minds? Well, as we've seen,
We sit and stare at a blank screen.