Your mind thinks it's in charge
Like a ghost in the machine
It's just a passenger hitching a ride
on this intergalactic rollercoaster.
It's convinced itself you are you
The real you knows without needing to
know, your thoughts they come and go,
to and fro, into the stream they flow and
then they drown.
They resurface from time to time but they
are essentially dead, just residue floating
on the surface, some are like rotten apples
bobbing, enticing you back to take a bittersweet bite, fooling you that you won't choke on their seeds.
Let the apples go, let them dissolve into the
currents. Water purifies, and transforms them
into power, just like taking a walk in the April
Shower. The seeds that are leftover will blossom and flower.
My soul set free, the mind watches on from the view of it's Ivory Tower.
Copyright © 2022 Gareth David Ogilvie
