((One from the vaults…))
When at day’s end my mind is sore, from thinking far too much,
my wit is numbed, my brain is dumbed, and my state of being is such,
that thinking hurts for want of peace, to turn these thoughts around no more.
Wanting only rest and sweet release, but unable to stop this opened door…
To stop a thought — nigh impossible. The mind does what it will.
Even in sleep, the thoughts still creep, only death can make the mind be still.
If only inner peace were found, contentment eludes this troubled storm,
provoked by restless, wretched thoughts, whose goal in life is to keep me torn…
Scattered schism of heart and mind, will united the twain of you ever be?
What price I’d pay to turn it off!
To simply stop thinking, and set this mind free!
To break the chains of discontent,
to quiet the yammering, hammering doubt.
Oh, how lovely to lose all reason, and throw the treacherous logic out!
Sometimes I cannot bear to think,
and wish I could remove the top of my head.
So I could take out the brain
that brings me such pain,
cast it off as dead!
~ C.L.R. ~ © 2005