The Watcher

I watch a hare race all about the woods, Along with children from the neighborhoods. Stiletto claws of hawk pounce on a mouse While I am watching from the wooden house. Today I watch the rain slide down the drain As silver-threaded drops still drip in vain. I love gray days when rain's contained in pools, Almost as much as I love watching fools. I watch and wait with great intensity To change my range of brain activity Indigenous to journeys near and far Beyond Orion's belt to every star. A child must stay a child inside the wild When childhood as a child has been defiled; For then is when the watcher comes alive To help the minds of children to survive. I pray away demonic thoughts that play Upon my troubled mind in every way, But prayer and medication stem no tide Of fulminate psychosis I abide. My dreams seem quite disturbed I must admit And hope that most will fail to ever fit Inside the pride that hides in memory Where rarely can one find reality. Both father and fair mother lie in beds, So cold and dead since I split wide their heads To see if I could see why I am me With hope to change my future history. Tomorrow I may borrow your fine mind And peek inside to see what's left behind; I hope to find the wine of wisdom's soul Then hide your borrowed brain inside a bowl.