My mind is a scene of nature.
It’s a barren desert.
A place waiting to be filled.
My thoughts manipulate the landscape.
Sometimes they’re fires raging through,
Leaving behind burning remnants of inspiration.
Sometimes they’re thunderstorms,
Striking quick flashes of intelligence.
And sometimes they’re a breeze.
Calmly flowing along,
I can reach out and grab them if I want,
But if I don’t, they just pass on through.
The day builds a city in my desert,
Ranging from a small town to a metropolis.
As people roam through,
They leave behind stores, businesses, and landmarks.
My meditation turns the desert into an ocean.
The water washes away all the thoughts, all the cares,
All the burning inspirations,
All the lightning marks,
All the city,
And fills my mind with the power of its nothing.
At night, the dreams come.
They drain the ocean,
Pull the city down,
Escort the people out,
And let the breeze blow again.
And it starts again.