Mind
Mind; that nebulous cloud,
is not what we suppose it to be.
It is not between our ears or eyes,
that is merely a rented room.
Its lodgings are everywhere.
Mind may reside in a starry hotel
circling a solar plexus,
but even that place
is only a transitory tent.
Mind is not gray brain-matter,
not a constant twitching of neurons
rooted to a branching spinal cord.
When Mind leaves its borrowed homes
it overwhelms any thought of size or shape,
just as the notion
of a man-made image of God
comically underwhelms.
The keeper of this drunken tavern of Mind
serves love in thimblefuls
but each one is deep enough
for any brain to drown within.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2023
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