My mind is a wandering thing
From the skies to the deepest parts of the Earth
To the treetops, to other countries
It has baggage
But no tickets or guides
My mind is a free thing
That often takes flight at the most crucial of moments
When I need it most
It skims the outter rings of Saturn
And chases about megabytes of computers
My mind is an inner connected thing
My mind is a confusing thing
My mind, I wonder sometimes, if it is even my own
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem