How true,
the passing fancies of thought,
as they stroke the mind's intent,
as if truth unveiled,
displayed complete,
giving them soul enough
for memory to keep.
Thoughts flow like streams,
often rapids of bubbling disarray,
yet truth finds way to clarity,
the foaming crust a momentary illusion
and rise those words of reality,
to quench minds
and steal hearts without formality.
I sit perfectly still,
and watch words and thoughts congregate above,
like clouds seeded they aspire,
to drench my mind in love, and
draw me to understand,
to further seek my destined path,
and be savored in meaning, a righteous intent,
with no stain or aftermath.
as they stroke the mind's intent,
as if truth unveiled,
displayed complete,
giving them soul enough
for memory to keep.
Thoughts flow like streams,
often rapids of bubbling disarray,
yet truth finds way to clarity,
the foaming crust a momentary illusion
and rise those words of reality,
to quench minds
and steal hearts without formality.
I sit perfectly still,
and watch words and thoughts congregate above,
like clouds seeded they aspire,
to drench my mind in love, and
draw me to understand,
to further seek my destined path,
and be savored in meaning, a righteous intent,
with no stain or aftermath.
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