Mind, a dancer on stage

I picture mind as an immense seaside, Thoughts as random waves soon to fade away As does a rising and receding tide, Like weeds, what they leave survive welcome stay. At times there endures sepulchral silence That looks a soul-less stage flooded with blight, A rain-washed seashore in deep penitence, Deserted, and robbed of daylong delight. And yet, should mind a dancer be on stage, Real I the Self, a witness, dumb and deaf-- All knowing, still a deadbeat silent sage For whom faith’s spelt with a capital F, Ego directs, mind a dancer on stage, And life’s drama unfolding, page by page. ___________________________________ Sonnet (musings) | 04.01.2011 | Self/soul