Achieving Great Things Without Plan

In an unwarned minute, He’d begun to spin it, Setting himself no limit Like one eyeing some summit: A forced-to-be-rotating band Praying to slip off for restful sand From a busied tormenting left hand And the next minute he was a man Achieving great things without plan And even without stirring a foot Of problems getting at their root; Entirely relying on his instinct, Vocally praising it for being distinct … Many would’ve said he was killing Time And as many pretending to use Time; A possible number “Hatching some crime” Perhaps some “A glass of undiluted lime” But I was sure in his finished rice ‘much thyme’.