The Mind


The mind is a strange place to be,
Locked up in it as you and me.

Each having thoughts of being composed
Of mind, body, soul and things not yet disclosed.

From early in time we invent our divisions,
Fragments of the mind and matters of decisions.

We develop names for things not generally understood,
And agree to their meaning when in the mood.

Still, in visions of fleeting presence
We know we are one, a unity in essence.

In life, and who knows about hereafter,
We know we are truly one, only units of matter.

The mind brings all together in the hope to survive,
For each knows who he is and that he's alive.

With faint stirrings that I am more,
I have thoughts of having been here before.

However, in somber realization, I know I'm inextricably bound
To the body you see, for without it I know I can't be found.

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