trouble walking

I'm not having trouble
walking, exactly - in fact
that's the trouble. I find 

I'm walking exactly. I 

trot like a hobbit or 

trudge like a drudge, I
lever my way around
like a big sack of sludge 

on stilts,
with deliberate steps 

in placement I notice
in directions so chosen
and guessed. And

achieved!

I get there! 
It works!
But it's way
too conscious a step
by step, okay? It hurts
almost but not quite 
to recall (muscle memory 
held in light) my ease 
of grace, so immersive 
and cool you can't even 
notice it - just feel, you fool! 

I noticed it. Yeah, 'cause I feel 
it now. The comparison is that 
between why and how. It's like

I forgot 

how to godlike glide. 
Simply aiming my mind
where I almost am, and my
stride happens all by itself -
no hitch, no intent or design, 

just effortless drift like a bitch 
on the beach. Not awake or asleep, 
just there. Basking daydreams, empty 
of care and full of awareness, suspended 

and lit.
To be both

the breeze and the mote 

in it.  

To go by being, no try, no do,  

just be within gravity, magnetized 

through by the sensory stream carried
on along and aloft, alight, alive - it's a real 
good feel. Not soft. Hard clear intangible 
 

- gone off.

I identify the cause somewhere within
the last ten pounds I picked up, though
any single individual pound of them 
- could not possibly have blame or fault

to show! I mean look at me. I'm a big, 
lithe guy. Less svelte than I've been, 
but who cares? Not I. Yet

collectively, mass has crossed some
line. Impact's increase, infinitesimally 
fine, has shaded past battleship gray
to blue, with an ungainly ochre taupe
tinged hue. Just as subtle as a fly 
in gravity's well. It peeps above 
attention's threshold, breaks some 
spell of levitation and forward float.  

It's ever so slightly troublesome to
try and do - and succeed on my way!

So pedestrianly. When I know 
I'm a boat