The Mind

with graph paper and a pen i attempted
to produce this mind of mine. it
surrounds us like time, but

we look at everything and only see remains;
only foreign tools, unknown to us and each
other; hinting at a pyramid with no peak.
Even if Imhotep was within he would sigh.

It follows behind like a doppelganger,
a garment not made to be worn. A religion
we cannot disbelieve.

Like water, it washes everything away but itself.
Yet our lamp usually shines on what is lost;
what the mind drowns, we sometimes deign
to drown with it.

thus are we prisoners of loss! But,
consider the phenomenon of busy roads:
cars appear endlessly, then vanish. We
never uncover their destinations. Almost like

sitting in bed and talking to myself, wondering
where words go. They may marry the air and
dissolve like night into the light.

How difficult it is to accept something so
pervasive, and transcendental! It always recalls
the faded photos of my grandfather whom I
wasn't early enough to see.

It makes martyrs of everything, so
we carry each and every newborn, and
love them till they die tomorrow.
it goes on and on and no one really minds.