To Define that of Which I am Thinking

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In hiding by the shade of quiet thought,
The wind did pass around me with a smile,
And breath did conquer what it was I got
Without the words to help clear the obscene,
So selfish, I rode on by mile to mile

Though no alternative could be so clean
As setting side this ponder that doth haunts
My eyes, which cruelly tell of having seen
Which nature would not have for all the war
And all that humans hold before to flaunt.

Still yet I rode a few good acres more
And that to destinations far more sane,
For sanity lives not inside the door
Or places that are yet to be designed,
Or as for that in any other plane,

But lives in understanding well the mind,
Its contents, thoughts, and revelations made,
In surface crossed and mad obstruction climbed,
In words combined and demonstrations told,
In bridges crossed for tolls that well were paid.

Alas, the secrets challenging are bold
And I, too weak, yield mildly to their aim
Of stories spoken through the times of old
That broken, fall to muteness, Still, I ride,
That all the mysterious twist; they still remain.

On summer mornings often can be tried,
The making sense of pictures which I speak
To no avail, 'til standing by my side
Comes Daniel, though until the shining rays
Can bother striking through my eyes to peel

At words so struggling, fighting dark for praise
Does notice draped on Daniel's silent voice.
It's swallowed quick within the mirror maze
By storms of voices whirling round the rod
Until it fades to grey without a choice.

But still I hear,
Like pebbles strewn in order where I trod,
"Just say what you're thinking"
"But so much more than words are things so odd."
"Just say without blinking."
He is winking.





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