Me?

 I have a mind of my own, she carefully mused. 

Like sirocco on dry sands, recklessly loosed.


A waterfall of thoughts and opinions and feel

A feast for the senses, a hearty meal. 


A carnivorous mind, never sated nor bored, 

A thousand imaginings enthusiastically devoured. 


The world cannot defeat me, not today, not ever; 

No malady, no moroseness, no absurd mental  fever. 


A world builder am I, an architect of life 

Shrugging off with ease, gloom and persistent strife 


This perfect, impenetrable paradise - almost 

A beautiful mind with a resident ghost. 


A faint tug of the strings attached to the heart 

Suppressing of memories, a mostly un-learnt art. 


A niggling corner of doubts and fears 

In a silken mind, akin to a tear. 


A glass once broken may never be repaired. 

Darkness persists, even as to light it is bared. 


The follies of the mind to be reasoned out 

Yet how do I make my heart as stout? 


Can my mind truly  be mine? she wondered anew. 

When it kneels to the heart to offer it’s due? 


Taxes of thoughts and emotions better forgotten. 

Yet I’m tempted as Eve for that apple rotten. 


What if the master is in fact the slave, 

An innocent captive to my heart - the knave? 


Save me, oh won’t you please lift me up? 

Cancel the meeting between the lip and the cup?


‘The knave’ guffaws in obvious glee, 

What good is your mind without the magnificence of me? 


I’ll fool you once, I’ll injure you twice, 

But can you truly enjoy sugar without a little bit of spice? 













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