A brush of wild, unruly hair,
flying this way and that.
Uncombed, untamed and coarse,
so, our mind is like our hair.
The mind splits us,it swallows us.
We let it govern us without fighting back.
It swings this way and the other way,
without giving us any slack.
I dance the polka,
but the mind grooves-
to the tango, swing and waltz.
Alas!I'll never know what.
The minute vessels, the lobes,
all unified as one.
We seek the footprints of our memories,
in the scanty underground.
1 comment:
interesting comparison......
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