A Poem for my Home

The mind is an organ,

The keys are the thoughts.

They flicker on and then off,

Like neon lights,

In the driving midnight rain.

The mind is a dark road,

The stars are the thoughts.

They lead onward and north,

So coldly steady,

In the dark deepening night.

The mind is a mess,

The trouble is the thoughts.

A world falling apart,

Faster each day,

A great philosopher would tell you it’s not.

‘The mind is a switch,

Briefly on and then off.

The thoughts are all fleeting,

Small sparks if you will,

And matter little to naught.’

or

‘The world is no different,

You’ve only grown up.

You’ve grown onward and north,

Your world is unending,

In the warming southerly sun.’