The mind patrols like Time
In its relentless progress,
Librarian of our memories,
Our daily acts, deciding which
To catalogue and which forget,
But also acts as editor
Who may rewrite the scripts
Of our experience,
Over-riding consciousness.
And what of dreams? I sometimes
Think the mind decides to play
Its games while we're asleep,
Juxtaposing images for fun
In a new surreal way.
And so would I if I was
In control instead of he!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The mind is such a powerful instrument.....it allows us to play sometimes buy never allows us to be in total control.......a great write Tom..so enjoyed reading it
Tom don't worry yourself about reading mine...and yes I would love to read your long poem in full....
Thanks, Annette. It's one section of a long poem. If you would like to read the whole could you let me know and I'll message it to you. I'm a bit behind looking at yours and Donna's work etc because of this but will catch up with you in the next couple of days.