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.