I like to sit in thought

at the bottom of my shower dressed in a shirt and tie.

I like to leave the water running,

against all the environmental bones in my body.

As I look towards the shower head with hope of some brilliant epiphany,

the water that had been falling gracefully onto my head

turns to coal

breaking at the touch of my skin.

…

In an act of faith, I scoop the small pieces of coal into my palms and begin to squeeze.

Pressing each tiny rock closer and closer to another.

A strange storm in the distance inches closer towards my world of stranger ideas,

and the grip I had almost perfected begins to slip.

Panic rushes through my veins.

The limbs connecting my hands to my head to my heart become limp,

and the energy I once thought infinite

is spiralling down the drain to my left.

My hands grow weaker until they are no longer pressing,

and weaker still until they are no longer touching.

I sigh,

…

and slowly pick up the dust that remains.

Staring down at the coal in the palm of my hand,

I rejoice that it hadn’t reverted back to water.

Another day, I could try again.

Another day, I might hold on.

Another day, I can turn this lump of rock

…

into a diamond.