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
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