The posings of a poet.

I Don’t, Mind


Isn’t it amazing how the mind remembers and forgets
So often fluid learning changing like concrete before it sets
At other times what you want is often out of place
Vanished like smoke to the universe Gone without one trace
It’s as if the mind itself has one all its own
And like a farmer harvests what seeds itself have sown
It seems at once I find I am both child and man
Staring down I cannot tell whether child or Giant’s hand
It writes for me and yet in truth I find I must wonder
If my mind controls what I write is believing it is mine a blunder

– You are more than your mind
You are what you do with it.


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6 thoughts on “I Don’t, Mind

  1. I loved this. It is true – -we write from some deep place at times – like the source energy or child self — and the mind may or may not have a lot of say there! 🙂 x

  2. Indeed, my mind tends to wander and it likes to stay out late!

  3. ….words come and we let them…….from wherever they come, we welcome them home. Nicely done, Dan. ~ Love, B

  4. This poem seems to me to be terribly profound ~ I wonder how much we truly ‘forget’ and how much could be brought back with some thought / effort …
    ‘It’s as if the mind itself has one all its own’ ~ yes, it really is 🙂

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