One’s Mind

Is not one’s, is not one.
One knows this, thanks to one’s

Mind. Here it sits. Here sprawls
More and more of it, bits,

Bites, bytes, and ifs or buts
Of it; one’s part of it.

It’s like a cave one knows,
But not just for old Greeks.

It’s one’s home; one shares it.
One can get lost in it,

Hide in it, die in it,
Hold up a torch in it,

Paint the deep walls of it,
Leave, go in search of it.

One can sit at the lip of it
And watch one’s world. Not it.