This Crafty Old Mind

This crafty old mind
It makes mountains
Out of every mole hill it finds

In that chaotic haze of thoughts
Reality becomes buried
I go blind

And all the time my inner peace
Is driven off
Replaced with angry wild geese

But this crafty old mind
It ain’t so crafty
I take a long look at the chaos

I see cracks and man
Those cracks
So big, they’re drafty

A little stillness
Getting mindful
And again I feel refreshed

I’m the boss of this mind
Crafty as it likes
Put to the test I’ll triumph yes

David James Horn ©

2 thoughts on “This Crafty Old Mind

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