MY MIND IS A WHIRLPOOL
My mind is a whirlpool,
all the thoughts swirling about,
and meeting at the bottom,
only to spread apart
and continue their spinning.
Spring brings new leaves
on the trees,
new ideas fresh and healthy
that mature into summer,
but become distant in autumn
and dormant in winter,
and then reappearing
in spring again.
With each new spring
come leaves that were
never there before,
that have come into existence
as a cause of continuous action,
different from their predecessors,
yet as similar to them
as clones.
I like to walk in the forest
and see its splendor,
its natural beauty,
its gentle peace
that glazes the landscape
with a sweet coating.
Yes,
‘t is the essence of Eden,
a world of enchantment,
a fantasy like no other.
Life is everywhere
and it gives life to me,
filling my mind
with wondrous thoughts.
Then the warm days of summer
approach after the flowers
are abloom
and the leaves of the trees
have peaked their growth.
At this time,
the story is unraveled,
the pieces have fit together,
and the course is charted;
the winds of the south
blow northward,
following the earth’s tilt to rest,
soaking up heat
from the direct sunlight.
The leaves then blow away
with the cool autumn winds
heading south again.
These winds,
unlike those of early summer,
are monstrous,
sweeping up everything in their reach,
carrying my thoughts,
which are tumbling across
the flat plains of my mind,
over the hills and mountains of memory,
and into the dormant winter nights.
The cold nights
bring thoughts of death,
thoughts of darkness,
sugar-coated
with the soft, powdery snow
that comforts them
and protects them
from the cold, wintry winds.
This white, glistening snow
which blankets them,
preserves them
for the new coming spring.
The leaves return,
Beginning small,
Slowly grow bigger, stronger;
And they are deeper than before,
riding the whirlpool through spring,
continuing its cycle
until it reaches its oblivion
on the ocean floor
and becomes greater,
building its eternity on older thoughts
that are swirling there,
replenishing its beauty and splendor
with the new ones falling in.
More and more,
until no more can be received,
and eternity is oblivion,
is the convergence of all seasons
into which nothing more can be attained.
For then,
there will be truth,
and the cycle will never cease ‘til then.
Japxican (Guild Member)
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