There

You cannot just do something,
Once and leave it at that,
Until you've done something like it so much,
You're like indifference on a cat,

And somehow there is a point,
After practice makes perfect,
When it only ruins the naturalness,
And moves you into fact,

Which is not life, but a facsimile,
Taken from a photocopy of a depiction,
Shredded and then piecemealed back together,
By a electronic technician.

And it's alright,
If it takes a while to get there,
It's better than going nowhere at all.
And that is certainly not rare.