The Mind

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Some minds rage and burn their stars,
Some minds aren't meant to go far;
Some minds are trapped in their own making,
Some minds are too shut to be awakened.

 I have a mind that knows,
Where and how it arose,
Denying its own destiny,
Oh, some minds were never meant to be.

 In the red furnace that burns,
Everyday I leave a piece of my own;
And all that I've grown -
Is something readily unknown.

 Some minds are products of fallacy,
Some minds are not ready for reality;
Some minds find peace in nothing,
Some minds are forever sulking;

 I have a mind that grieves,
Behind the smiles it receives;
Chastising its own existence,
It is lost in the balance.

 In the splashing rain that comes,
Dissolve my thoughts one by one,
And all that was of joy or concern -
Is lost in a taunting haunt.

 Some minds are treacherous webs,
That are trapped in their refreshed designs;
Some minds cannot be helped,
They are awaiting resign;

 Some minds cannot speak for themselves,
Some minds cannot unmelt,
Some minds you cannot understand,
Some minds you cannot comprehend,

 Some minds are not meant to be shown,
Some minds are to remain unknown,
Some minds are filled to the brim -
Yet some minds cannot resolve anything.
.
.
.
.
.
Floating down...
In the rage of such a mind...
All colours seem so red...
All faith is left behind...

 Floating up...
As colours fill the night...
A future gazing on...
A past to overwrite...

 So calm down
Let it go...
The heart's waiting to collect -
What the mind let go...
And calm down
Swim ashore...
Your soul has erased your grief -
When your mind let go...

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