It’s not just when we’re caught up
In a wish no good for us,
In some choice that’s bad for us,
That the mind whines out of sync
With some rough joy in our guts.
Days with no good news in them,
Days that do not squirm for us,
Twist their spines to bend our way,
May prod the wise mind to froth
At the foam-flecked mouth of sense
And still, in their own weird dance,
Feel right, feel good, be at peace.
Thursday, July 23, 2020
A Maze
