The Mind Thing

Words, at once beautiful, poignant, poised, priceless, rise up in my mind, like clouds into the sky. It’s all in the head. Into head it disappears. Like thin veil of clouds floating in the clear blue sky. There it is. Valuable. How must I cherish it? It’s gone…

Peace is a mind thing. So do you agree. Is violence not a mind thing too? Where do we wage wars if not in mind?

Idea is a mind thing too. So are you. You are just a figment of my imagination. So must I be a reflection of your own. My own.

Know Thyself. Socrates was reputed to have the words pitched on his door. Know yourself. Yet, all I have are words – useless and insignificant. Infertile. Wasted. Dumped.

Once in a while, ideas spring like mesmerised child, so full of meaning. So full of itself. Seemingly poignant and truthful only to roll out into oblivion.

Lost. Lost ideas. Lost mind. Lost self. We live in a lost world.

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