i must realign my center. i must. though i've not the slightest inclination. perhaps i will just sway freely. void of axis. void of weight. but i fear my floating. i know my own ways. enough to acknowledge the coupled lure of enigmatic fleet. i'd not ever return. so i've kept a small silver link attached--with only memory of the anchor. now deteriorating each minute. i've tried polishing. with a cloth woven from strands of lingering dreams, i feverishly stroked (though only ever left an irreversible tarnish). i must rid this crux before it rids me. i cannot comprehend the yearning to withhold such a rusted rivet. it's going to break. soon, it will. and in its fall, subtly bestow the most beautiful dreary clink. propelling my soul through the walls of itself. where stone will morph to glass and fall like golden glitter.